


Skies of Fire

by feelskilledthefangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Has Nightmares, Dean has a Fear of Flying, Demons, Fear, Fear of Flying, Flying, Hunter Dean, Hunter John, Hunter Sam, Lonely Dean, Mute Dean Winchester, Nightmares, Silence, Teen Dean, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-04-07 02:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4246764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feelskilledthefangirl/pseuds/feelskilledthefangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When 15 year old Dean finishes up a solo hunt sooner than expected, he comes back to find that his family has left him. His father had found another case on the other side of the U.S and left with Sam to go take care of it.   After giving his father a call, Dean finds out that Sam and his father might have bitten off a little more than they could chew and are in desperate need Dean's help to finish the hunt. Time is limited and Dean is left with only one way to reach his family before it’s too late. He is left to face one of his biggest fears.</p><p>Dean Winchester has to fly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gone

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by @delaineroessner on instagram :)

"I can’t fuckin’ believe this shit," Dean swore as he lay his head against the side of the telephone booth. "What the fuck was dad thinking?"

Dean slammed the phone violently back into its cradle, making the metal clang loudly.  Leave it to John Fucking Winchester to run off with Sammy and leave him stranded in the middle of California by himself.

"This the last damn time dad is going to send me off to deal with the cases he doesn’t want,” Dean snarled under his breath. He pushed his way out of the phone booth in frustration, anger the only thing fueling his legs to keep moving forward.

Things were not supposed to turn out like this. His dad had given him an easy case, a lone vampire who had been picking off pretty local women for a snack.  When his father had asked if he wanted to do this hunt on his own, Dean jumped at the opportunity. John didn’t let him hunt solo very often, so he was ready to use this case to prove that he could handle himself.  Looking back, Dean should have realized that this was job was just too good to be true. Luck was never on the side of a Winchester, so he should have predicted that things would go south.

Now, the case actually started actually went pretty well if Dean said so himself. It was just everything after it that had begun to snowball on him. An average hunter would have taken roughly a week to wrap up the case, but Dean, being more skilled than most average hunters, was able to track down the vamp and close the case in only three days' time.

Tired and blood soaked, Dean returned to the motel they were staying at, ready to see Sam again and boast about how well the job had gone. However, when returned, he came back an empty room, Sam and his father’s personal belonging nowhere to be seen. The only familiar item that had been left behind was his own duffle with a note in his father’s scrawled writing.

His father had taken Sam and driven three days travel to Tennessee. Bobby had needed some help taking care of a nasty group of changelings in the area. He had assumed Dean would take longer than three days to do the case, so he had taken another job to pass the time. Clearly, his father had underestimated Dean’s abilities.

And that was how Dean now found himself stranded in the middle of San Francisco alone, broke, and with no means of transportation. Just to add onto his mounting problems, the motel owner had kicked him out of the room because the card his father used finally been maxed out. Dean didn’t have enough cash on him to pay for another night, so he packed up his few belongings and got his ass out of there before people started asking questions.

That was just his fucking luck...

To make matters worse, when Dean had called his father, John had informed him that he needed to haul ass down to Tennessee to help out with the changeling case. Of course, Dean’s first instinct was to find a way to Tennessee as fast as possible, so he had told his father that he’d hustle some pool later that night and hotwire a car to drive down there to meet them.

That had been answered with a long speech about how Dean was only fifteen and would have a pretty hard time getting into a bar without his fake ID. Apparently, he had left that in the Impala, which was now in Tennessee with the rest of his family. Then his dad went on to complain about how driving would take Dean three days, two if he sped the whole way, which was not fast enough. John needed him to be there in like three hours, not three days.

Dean was fucked.

There was really only option left. Dean didn’t even want to say it, so his father said it form him. John's solution was Dean's worst nightmare. He would have to fly.

Dean wanted to argue with his father, but he could hear the finality in John’s voice. He knew deep down that flying was the fastest way to travel, but Dean would do basically anything to avoid getting on one of those flying metal death traps.  

As he had listened to his father’s orders, Dean felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack. The mere thought of flying made him flushed and jittery, and not in a good way. That was just something Dean couldn’t seem to get over. With everything they faced and every creature that had tried to kill him, Dean was scared of a goddamn airplane. He couldn’t help it though. There was just something ominous and unforgiving about being thousands of miles away from earth, completely at the mercy of the weather and the pilot. There were thousands of things that could go wrong on a plane and most of them resulted in the deaths of everyone on board.  

Dean’s voice wavered slightly when he asked if there were any other alternatives. He knew the answer beforehand, but he still had to try.

John’s exact response to him had been "Dean, grow up, you're fifteen. Be a man and get on the damn plane, that’s an order.”

After that, Dean swallowed his fear said, “Yessir,” and listened to the instructions that had followed.  

John’s voice was low and serious as he spoke, “I have a contact up there, an old buddy of mine named Jim Murphy. He will get you the cash that you'll need for a ticket. Meet him at that old gas station by the motel we were staying at. He'll be there in twenty. I'll be there to pick you up at the Nashville International Airport when you land."

Those had been his dad's last words before hanging he hung up the phone.

"I can't do this,” Dean said in a choked whisper. He lifted a hand and ran his palm down his face in distress as he attempted to steady his ragged breathing.

Dean knew that he would have to do this. His family was counting on him to be there for them. Dean didn’t even want to think about what might happen to Sam, John and Bobby if they had to finish the case without him. If his father needed him enough to make Dean travel by plane, than those changelings must be stirring up some serious shit.

Dean took in a deep breath and stopped walking so he could collect himself. He took a quick assessment of his surroundings. The skies above him were dark and cloudy, doing nothing to improve Dean's mood. A street sign nearby told him that he was close to the gas station John had told him to go to. Dean used this to try and ignore the in a few short hours he would be up in those dark clouds, far away from the ground.

When Dean felt his legs stop quivering beneath him, he began to walk again. Under his breath, he started to sing Metallica to himself to stop the voices in his head from reminding him that flying was scary.

Dean couldn't afford to think of any of that right now. He knew that if he dwelled on the thought of flying for too long, his feet would end up leading him as far away from the airport as he could possibly get.

So, as Dean walked, he flipped his brain into auto pilot mode, like he always did when he really needed to focus on something.

Using his auto pilot mode, Dean had turned himself into the loyal brother, the obedient son, the mindless soldier. Dean was a robot on legs and he knew it. All Dean had to worry about right now was getting to that gas station and finding Jim Murphy. He told himself that this would all be over soon. He just needed to follow the rules and stay devoted to the family business. This was his job, his duty, his legacy.

Before Dean knew it, he found himself pushing open the main doors to an inadequately cooled convenience store. It was connected to the gas station his father had sent him to, and Dean kind of wanted to see if he could swipe something to drink without the store owner catching him.

Dean let his eyes scan the room and along the shelves as he reached up to wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. Inside, the Californian air seemed to grow thicker and more humid with each passing minute. Deep in his gut, Dean knew that a storm was coming… and it was going to be a big one.

It was then and there Dean decided that he officially hated California.

So far, everyone he had met here a stuck up, Hollywood wanna be bitch who thought they were better than everyone else. California was not a place where he belonged. He couldn't live around people like this all the time. They were far too high class and high maintenance for his tastes. Hunting was raw and dirty, while everything in California seemed clean and plasticky.

Dean tried to look as inconspicuous as possible, carefully noting the other people in the store. Behind the counter was an Asian casher who looked half asleep at his post.

Besides the cashier, there were just two other people in here with him.  One of them was a tall blond man dress in a casual button up, while the other was a shorter dark haired man, with darker clothes.

Either one of them could be Dean’s guy. His father had failed to tell him a description of the gut so he no idea who he should be looking for. Dean just hoped that this Jim Murphy guy knew who he was supposed to be looking out for.   

In the meantime, Dean’s attention was drawn towards his grumbling stomach. He hadn't realized until now how damn hungry he was. His hunger was a good distraction from the thought of flying, so he made himself focus on that.

Silently, Dean moved between the convenience store shelves, trying his best not to appear suspicious or out of place. Dean didn’t really thing he was fooling anyone though. His clothing looked old and unwashed. There were deep wrinkles in the fabric that clearly indicated that he had been sleeping in this outfit for a few days already. He was sure everyone was giving him a wary eye.

Living out on the road was hard though, and you weren’t always provided a lot of ways to clean your clothing. A lot of times Sam and Dean found themselves wearing their scarce collection of clothing far too many times in a row between each wash.

Dean kept his eyes on the half dozing casher sitting behind the counter as he slowly moved towards the smaller food items. He let his eyes dart to the shelf in front of him, which was full of candy bars, before reaching up and hurriedly grabbing a three musketeer and stuffing it into his pocket. Dean was definitely known for his nimble quick-witted hands. He was great at getting the five-finger-discount and an even better at pickpocketing. Hell, Dean was even better at it than Sam. His eleven year old brother knew some pretty good tricks, but Sam was still a little too clumsy to effectively pickpocket a person.

"Really son?" a guff voice said behind Dean. "You don't have to steal it."

Dean leapt nearly a foot in the air and whirled around, barely holding back a startled noise bubbling in his puberty ridden throat. Apparently, he had been so immersed in what he was doing that he had failed to notice that the blond man had walked up beside him.

"I- uh, what are you talking about?" Dean stammered, putting on his best poker face and trying to look for the nearest exit.

"Don't play games with me son. You’re John’s kid,” the man was talking low so no one would overhear their conversation. “So how about instead of stealing that candy bar, why don't you just let me buy it for you? You've got a long trip ahead of you."

Dean felt his muscles relax, realizing that this had to be his dad’s contact. He didn’t want to imagine how mad his dad would have been if he had gotten himself sent off to jail for a candy bar. Dean felt his cheeks grow ruddy from embarrassment as he pulled the candy bar from his pocket and placed it in the man's outstretched hand.

The man took the candy bar and introduced himself. "I'm Jim Murphy. Your father and I go way back."

Dean nodded in acknowledgement. He only knew of Jim from the stories he was told. Apparently the two of them use to hunt together. Judging by the way his father talked about Jim, he had been a pretty damn good hunter before he retired.  Now he just helped hunters in need, gave them a place to stay when they were passing through town, and helped them with research when needed.  

"I've heard stories," Dean said with a soft smile as he reached out to shake Jim's hand.

"All good stories I hope," Jim teased, grasping Dean’s hand firmly and chuckling softly.

“Of course,” Dean replied. “My dad has nothing but praise for you.”

Jim was still grinning as he said, "I think we better get down to it. If I know your dad I well as I think I do, than we need to get you to Tennessee sooner rather than later." Jim clapped a hand down on Dean's back and added, "Your daddy is an impatient man when he's on a hunt."

"Tell me about it..." Dean snorted as he let himself be led towards the checkout counter. Along the way, Jim grabbed a bag of M&M’s, Nacho Cheese Doritos and a twelve ounce bottle of coke.

Dean tried to protest, but Jim shot him a stern look before the words had even left his mouth. When they got the counter, the man behind the register jumped in surprise. He must have been on the edge of dozing off to sleep. The cashier rung them up in silence, moving slow and a little clumsily, almost dropping the bag of M&M’s as he scanned them.

When he had finished, Jim flashed the casher a ten a hunt of irritation in his tone as he said, "Keep the change."

Then they grabbed their items and walked out of the convenience store, Dean on his tail as Jim muttered, "I don't have time for him to try and figure out how much damn change I would need."

Dean snickered and said, "That's California for ya I suppose..."

"S'not all bad," Jim replied with a smirk, leading Dean over to a nearby car. "Some people here have actually have a brain in their head, he just didn't happen to be one of those people."

Dean laughed and scanned the surrounding area for potential threats. It was just one of these habits that hunters became accustom to.  Hunting made a person realize that you always need to keep a watchful eye if you wanted to live.  You never knew who or what could be right around the corner just waiting to jump you. Dean could see that Jim doing the same thing as he was.

Even though he had retired from hunting, there were just somethings about the life that never left you. Once you learned about what was out there, you would never really be at ease again.

Jim led Dean to an old pickup truck and said, "Hop in. I'm driving you to the airport."

"Y-you're driving me?" Dean asked in confusion. He had assumed Jim would just give him the cash and bail. He thought he would just catch a taxi to the airport. Taxis were really easy to find around these parts.

"’Course! You didn't think I was gonna make you go alone now did ya son?” Jim replied as the two of them climbed into the car.

"Actually that's exactly what I thought you were gonna do," Dean answered with a shrug, pulling the passenger door shut after him.

"I may have worked with your daddy, but that don't mean I am anything like him. Besides, trying to walk or hail a taxi is just more trouble than its worth.  There’s a flight that leaves for where you're going in about an hour and I wanna make sure you get there in time."

"Yeah, well I think I’d rather miss the flight..." Dean grumbled, scrunching his nose in distain. He would rather face a hundred Wendigos all at once than ride on a metal plane of death. At least if he was hunting, both feet would be flat on solid ground.

"Not a fan of flying?" Jim asked as he started up the engine.

"Not particularly," Dean replied, his stomach churning at the mere thought.

"It's not too bad and it will be over before you know it. Just think about this, you’ll get to see your little brother and old man way sooner than if you drove." Jim tried to comfort him as he passed Dean the items from the convenience store.

"Thanks for the up lifting words and all, but I think the less I think about it, the better off I’ll be. The sooner I can get my feet get back on solid ground the happier I'll be," Dean said. He looked at the food in his hand but he really wasn’t all that hungry anymore. The thought of flying had pretty much demolished his appetite.

"Well, I'm scared of bridges," Jim said as he started the car and pulled out onto the road.

Dean gave Jim as sideways look. "You’re afraid of bridges?" Dean questioned. How could such a broad, burly man be afraid of something simple as a bridge?

"Damn right I am I can't stand them. I will drive for hours just to bypass them," Jim explained with a gruff laugh.

Dean nodded and said, "My little brother is terrified of clowns."

Dean had a brief flashback of the time he bought Sam a clown doll just for shits and giggles. When Sam had seen the doll, he screamed bloody murder and refused to calm down until Dean threw salt on it and burned it in a motel parking lot. After that, Dean tried to help Sam get over his fear. He’d let Sam use the clown for shooting practice and his brother got good really fast, didn’t make him get over his fear though. Dean tried though, he really did.

"I don't blame the kid,” Jim said with a shudder. “Them things are freaky enough to give anyone the creeps."

Dean sighed, smiling at the thought of his little brother. Slowly, his smile faded and he stared out the window at the buildings passing by. With a bitter laugh Dean said, "Ya know, what with all the things we've seen and everything we know is out there, just look at the stupid ass shit that actually scares us."

"Human's will be humans I suppose," Jim said, reaching out and clicking on the AC in the truck in the hopes of eliminating some of the humidity in the air.

"It doesn't make any sense,” Dean huffed, trying how much darker the sky seemed seem to have gotten. He didn’t like the way the sky was filling with tall, dark cumulonimbus clouds.

"I suppose it don't make much sense,” Jim agreed. “You gotta be afraid of something though, even livin’ the way we do. Even if you weren’t raised a hunter, you’d probably still be afraid of flying. The only difference would be that you wouldn’t know that there was something darker and meaner out there.”

Dean shrugged, thinking back to the night that changed everything in his life. He once had a shot at a nice, normal happy life, but a damn demon had taken that all away from him and his family nearly 12 years ago.

This demon, who they’d given the title ‘Yellow-Eyes’, had come into his little brothers room when he was only six months old and killed his mother for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Dean closed his eyes tightly, trying to push back the memories as they flooded to the surface.

He could still remember the day it happened, clear as day.

Dean had been four years old at the time. He’d never forget the chaos that ensued that night. The air had been thick and smoky and it was hot enough that his pajamas were sticking to his skin. He remembered coughing and choking on great lungful’s of air, hearing the sound of his little brother crying, his mother's screams of pain, and his father crying out Mary’s name.

Dean had no idea what was going on and woke up a little dazedly. His mother had put him to bed only a few hours before, but all the commotion drawn him from his bed. Dean remembered waddling down the hall towards Sammy's nursery, with groggy, sleep filled eyes. He wanted to know why everyone was being so loud. When Dean had entered his little brothers room he recalled the bright, blinding, burning flames dancing red and orange darting around everything. The stinking odor of burning flesh filled his nose and made him gag. When he looked up, Dean could remember seeing his mother, her white night gown soaked red with blood, as flame licking up the sides of her body, charring her skin and burning her alive.

In his terror fueled haze, Dean had frozen in shock, his legs seeming to melt to the ground. He almost hadn't realized when his father came running at him with six month old Sammy clutched in his arms.

Dean could still hear his father’s echoed shouts of,  _"Go Dean! Run! Take your brother outside as fast as you can!"_

The last memory he had of his mother from that day was of her burning body. Within the flames Dean swore he a second face beside hers, complete unburned and unscathed, deep, yellow eyes glinting devilishly, and cruel smile curving it lips while flames enveloped his mother.

That face in the flames had left with Dean horrifying nightmares for years. As he got older, he _knew_ that was the face of his mother’s killer. Even now, years later, Dean occasionally found his dreamed plagues with dreams of yellow-eyes. They now knew that this creature was a demon, and Dean was terrified that it would come back and try to take Sam from him or Bobby or his dad. Dean wanted this demon dead almost more than his father wanted it dead. He wasn’t going to let this demon hurt his family ever again.

The rest of that night became a blur to Dean. He remembered somehow finding his way outside, Sammy held safely in his arms. From here, his memories were jumpy, and unclear, he had been in shock which made everything seem more like a dream than reality. Sam had been crying in his arms and Dean wished his little would stop. He didn’t like hearing Sam cry, it made Dean want to cry too. Dean tried to hush his little brother, but his efforts were in vein. Sam's screams mixed with his mother's upstairs made Deans ears burn.

By the end of the night, Dean had tears running down his own four year old face. He had known in the pit of his stomach that tonight was the last time that he’d ever see his mom. Even then, Dean had known that things were about to change.  He realized that his mom wouldn't be there to make him pie or grilled cheese sandwiches. She wouldn't be able to read him anymore good night stories. He’d never get another goodnight kiss or hear her whisper,  _'Angels are watching over you'_ in his ear before he fell asleep.  Dean had known, even at the fragile age of four years old that his mom was gone.

As the weeks after his mother's death had passed by, Dean refused to speak t anyone. He was too traumatized by what he had seen and heard say anything. Before all this, Dean had been a very active talker and bubbly child but quickly fell into a world of silence. He smiled less, he laughed less, and God knows he didn’t talk about what happened.

His father had also receded into himself. He couldn't bring himself to live without his wife so John had resorted to drinking and staying out late at night, usually leaving Dean and Sam with Bobby or their long time family friends, Bill and Ellen Harvelle. They all watched after him and Sam as if they were their own children.

As time stretched on, everyone became more and more was worried about Dean’s extended silence. They were worried that the trauma of the fire had caused to Dean become mute and that he might never speak again.  Ellen had even insisted that Dean go to a child physiatrists but it didn’t help either. Bobby tried to tell John that this would just take time. He was convinced that Dean would talk again, but not until he was ready.

At night, Dean started to dream of those terrible yellow eyes he had seen on the roof. Those eyes had looked straight into Dean’s soul and burnt a fear there that reached deeper than bone. Dean knew those yellow-eyes would haunt him forever. Those eyes belonged to the thing that stole his mother.

To alleviate the nightmares, Dean took to curling beside Sammy in his crib. Dean would hold Sam close and cry himself to sleep. Sometimes Dean would mentally pray to God to bring his mom back. Dean needed his mother. Sammy needed her too. Though Sam was too young to understand what had happened, Dean knew his brother missed her too. When his brother cried, Dean was usually the only one that could calm Sam. This used to be his mom’s job, but it had now become Dean’s responsibly. Eventually, his father started to leave Dean home alone with Sam for hours at a time to go out drinking or to hunt down a lead on what had killed Mary.

A few months later, his father began to scold Dean for crying about Mary’s death.  John would tell him to  _'Man up and get over it’._ Eventually, Dean resorted to crying in the silence of night, Sam sleeping beside him Dean’s only comfort.  After that, Dean was taught that emotions weren't to be shown; it was unmanly for anyone except for Sam since he was the youngest. Dean needed to be brave for his family. Chick flick moments let weakness show so Dean pushed all of those to the side. Dean needed to be strong for Sammy and his father. He was their anchor.

It wasn't until roughly a year later, right around Dean's fifth birthday that he finally spoke again. Sammy had been the one that had prompted Dean to speak again. Sam had reached out for him and called Dean’s name. His name had been Sam’s first words.

Dean had beamed from ear to ear when he heard the gurgled,  _"B-bean”_  fall from his little brother's lips. It hadn’t been the best pronunciation in the world, but it was close enough and filled Dean with pride. He knew then that his little brother was going to be one smart cookie.

After that, Dean remembered praising his brother, his own underused voice, rough and scratchy as he whispered into Sam's ear. Dean would tell his brother how proud he was and assured him that everything would be okay. Sam probably didn’t understand any of what Dean was saying, but his voice seemed to sooth his little brother.  He promised Sam that he’d always be there to take care of him.

From there, Dean forced himself to grow up even faster. John had a real lead on what killed their mother and was now actively trying to search for it. This left Sam and Dean to be dragged back and forth across the country as their dad searched; killing each and every monster he faced along the way.

As the years passed by, Dean didn't see as much of Bobby or the Harvelle's, especially after Bill Harvelle had been killed on a hunt. Dean was later told a brief story from his father about what happened on the hunt.

Soon, John began training them to hunt and fight. Dean could field strip a gun by age six and shoot a perfect bullseye every shot by age seven. He and Sam were supposed to carry on the family legacy and help look for the thing that had killed their mother. They weren't supposed to rest until the thing was dead.

That lead them to where they were now.

Their trail on yellow-eyes had gone cold. John had lost the scent once again and they were left doing small jobs. His father was searching desperately for any new information to follow.

Dean hated hunting. He wished that they could just stay in one place. Yes, he wanted to find the creature that had killed their mom too, but Dean was tired of hunting, tired of fighting, tired of running and being forced to grow up too fast. Dean knew he had already lost his childhood. His childhood had died the same night as his mother did, but that didn’t mean Sam had to lose his too.

Sam always came first in Dean's world. To Dean, there was nothing more important that his little brother. Sam came before everything, even himself. Without his little brother, Dean knew he would be lost.

Dean sighed, hoping that the changeling hunt that Sam was working on with his dad was getting better. He couldn't stand the thought of any of them being hurt. Dean was more than a little angry that John had up and left without even a warning. It wasn’t really that his father had left that pissed him off, it was the fact that his father had taken Sam with him. Dean would never forgive himself if something happened to Sam while he wasn't there. He was supposed to be his brother's keeper, his protector, his knight in shining armor who was always there for him. That was Dean's job.

Dean was pulled from his thoughts by Jim’s concerned voice. “You okay son?" he asked, cautiously. "You got a little quiet there."

"Y-yeah, I'm all good," Dean said gruffly, the crack in his voice almost giving himself away. Puberty was a bitch.

"I'm sorry Dean. If there was another way to get you there faster God knows I would do anything to make that possible," Jim explained. He clearly thought that Dean's silence was from the fear of flying. Yeah, that was partly true, but the idea of yellow-eyes was more powerful than any plane ride. Any thought of the demon made Dean go silent and lose his voice faster than you could say ‘apple pie’.

To Dean, the yellow eyed demon was true embodiment of dark, evil, untainted fear.

"Honestly, I'm fine," Dean tried to assure Jim, giving his head a small shaking to ride the thought of yellow-eyes and the idea of flying from his mind. "It's just been a really long couple of days. I finished off a vamp nest yesterday, and now I'm gonna have jet lag on top of all this," he tried to make a joke out of it, but his heart really wasn't into it.

"Well, I'm gonna expect a call from you or your daddy once you land son,” Jim told him with a stern look.

Dean looked around, his heart skipping a beat in his chest as he realized that they were already pulling into the airport parking lot. He had been zoned out for longer than he thought. Dean was really not ready for this.

"Yessir," Dean replied with a polite nod. Fear and anxiety leapt in Dean’s chest as he unlatched his seatbelt. His lower lip felt tender and raw as he worried it with his teeth, foot nervously against the floorboards.

Dean watched as Jim pulled out his wallet and fished a credit card from a little slot. He handed the card to Dean and said, "This card has enough to get you a ticket down to Tennessee and a little extra so you can buy food and what not. Be sure to go straight in and get that ticket. _Don't miss your flight."_

Dean tried to give Jim a convincing smile, but he was sure that it looked more pained than anything else. He took the card and tucked it into his own pocket and said, "Thanks for this Jim. I really appreciate that you’re doing thing."

Jim smiled and reached out to shake Dean's hand saying, "Anything for an old friend. See ya around son. Stay outta trouble."

"No promises there," Dean chuckled as he opened the car door.

Jim just smile back at Dean with a small shake of the head.

After Dean had shut the door, he watched Jim's old pickup truck drive away. When it was finally out of his sight, Dean took in a deep lungful of air before turning towards the airport doors.  He ignored the quivering in his legs and strode, into the airport with a straight back and his chin held height.

It was now or never.

In under and hours' time Dean Winchester was gonna fly.


	2. Fear

Dean’s heart was pounding and everything around him seemed to be spinning. He felt like he was going to be sick. The closer that he got to the plan, the more Dean felt like throwing up what little food he had in his stomach.  He just hoped that he’d be able to keep his lunch down at least until the plane had landed again. Dean’s clothes already weren’t in the best condition and puking all over himself wouldn’t make things any better.

His airline ticket had been clutched so tightly in his hands that he had actually bent it a little bit.  When he handed the attendant at the terminal his ticket, she had given him a funny look and asked if he was alright. He couldn’t exactly remember what his response had been, but apparently it had been convincing enough for her not to ask any further questions.  

Everything around him seemed to be passing by in a blur. Part of him hoped that someone would see just how freaked he was and refuse to let him board the plane. Maybe someone would think he was ill and prevent him from flying for the safety of the other passengers. To be honest, Dean was pretty sure that he really was getting sick. As he walked through the passageway to board the plane, Dean got a shifting feeling of unease. Some gut instinct was telling him that this was all wrong. There was something not right about this and Dean knew it. He and almost turned around and tried to make a break for it, but the person behind him cleared his throat and told him to keep walking. Dean hadn’t even realized he stopped moving.

Dean’s feet felt like led the moment he stepped into the plane. He showed his ticket to the flight attendant and vaguely heard her explain where his seat was. Dean moved like a zombie down the eye, his eyes looking at everyone but not really seeing anything.  Around him, people were bustling and shifting, moving to their seats or putting things up in the overhead compartments. Dean knew he should do a preliminary scan of the people on this flight, but he just couldn’t get himself to focus. His mask of bravery had been forgotten at the terminal entrance and Dean felt like he was four years old again, lost, alone, and petrified by fear. His heart leapt with anxiety as he felt rather than heard the strange popping of the metal floors underneath his feet. Part of him wondered if it was actually moving or if it was only his imagination. Dean decided that knowing the answer wouldn’t make him feel any better.

As Dean got closer to the back of the plane, he checked his ticket again to figure out which seat was his.  It only took him a couple seconds to spot the chair that was his. He tried not to focus on the fact the he had gotten stuck with a window seat. He had specifically asked not to be given a window seat yet that was exactly what they had stuck him with.  The last thing Dean wanted was to be able to actually look out the window and see just how far up they were. He would be closing the shades on the window for sure.

"Fucking airlines," Dean grumbled under his breath, as the color drained from his face ever so slightly. The women he was passing by must have heard him because she shot him a dirty look.

The moment Dean's ass hit the uncomfortable blue seat he clipped the buckle. He rapidly reached over and pulled down the plastic shade on his window.  Once the shade was in place, Dean braced his head back against the headrest, held tight to the armrest and closed his eyes. He mentally willed the flight to just be over already so he could be back on solid ground.

"Are you alright?" a soft feminine voice asked beside him.

Dean jumped slightly at the sound and opened his eyes to see who was speaking. While he had been silently freaking out, a woman had joined him and was sitting on his right. Dean had been so enveloped in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed her arrival.  

He instantly began to analyze the women and assess if she was going to be any kind of threat to him.  She was an older woman with soft mousey blonde hair and eyes the color of Sam's. Her face was etched with nothing but concern as he looked at him. Dean noticed that one of her hands was halfway extended towards him in what he assumed was supposed to be a comforting gesture.

"Does it really show that much?" Dean asked, trying his best to speak in a joking manor. Jokes were Dean ultimate defense against weakness. If he could get someone to laugh or even crack a smile they would usually forget about their question.

"Just a little," the worry didn’t leave her face, but she still smile softly over at Dean. "Is this your first time?"

Dean shook his head. “No, I had to go on once when I was like ten.” He tried not to shudder as he thought back to that dreadful experience.  "I hated it,” Dean added grimly.

It had been another occasion when they had been in a hurry to get somewhere. John had insisted that flying was the only was the only was they’d get the job done before more people got hurt. He remembered almost hyperventilating as the plane took off.  The entire frame had shifted and warped under the intense speed and pressure at which they had been moving.  Once they made it into the air, things hadn’t gotten any better. The turbulence was terrible, rattling the entire plane and making it feel like they were flying through an earthquake.  Dean had been stuck by the window on that flight too.  He remembered making the mistake of looking out the window that time and immediately rushing off to the nasty airplane bathroom to throw up the contents of his stomach.

When he had returned Sam had taken Dean’s seat by the window. His father was just glaring at Dean, and Dean had hung his head in shame. Everyone around them was looking at them funny, watching Dean with a wary eye.  When Dean had taken the middle seat, beside Sam, his father had thoroughly scolded him and told to _‘calm the hell down and get his shit in order. It was just a damn plane ride’._

After that, Dean had spent the rest of the flight, pale faced, sitting stiffly in his seat as he placed a strangle hold grip onto the armrests.  He never relaxed fully, but at one point, Sam and taken his small hand and placed it carefully on top of Dean’s. It had provided Dean was a small ounce of comfort and he was able to get through the rest of the flight without incident, Sam’s little hand rubbing smooth lines over his skin.

This time things felt much worse. This time, he didn’t have his little brother to help keep his head on his shoulders. He was on the edge of a panic attack and they hadn’t even taken off yet.

"Don't worry dear," the woman said, soothingly. Gingerly, she placed one of her soft, hand over his in a comforting gesture. Dean looked down at her hand without a word, wishing for all he was worth that this was Sam’s hand on his instead of hers. He still appreciated her attempt at soothing him though.

The woman paused, her hazel eyes scanning Dean’s face briefly before jumping to the window behind him. Dean was a little surprised when a moment later she asks, “Would you like to switch seats with me so you're not by the window?"

Dean’s eyebrows jump up as he hesitantly breathes, "You’d be willing to switch?"

"Of course love," she smiled warmly at him and shifted her legs so Dean could get up and slide past her.

When Dean was sitting down again he felt marginally better. As he buckled the seatbelt, Dean let out of soft sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized until then just how uncomfortable the window seat had made him.

"Thank you," Dean said gratefully as he tried to give her a soft, appreciative smile.

"No problem honey," she answers. "I'm Amber by the way."

"Dean," Dean said, holding out his hand as he introduced himself.

"So you’re flying alone Dean?" Amber asked curiously.

"Yeah, I'm going to meet up with my brother, dad and uncle,” he told her truthfully.

"Ah, and how old are you sweetheart?" It was clear that Amber was trying to keep Dean's mind off the impending flight, so he kept letting her ask him questions. Normally, he wouldn’t be so willing to talk about himself to someone that he just met. Dean didn’t think Amber was any kind of threat to him so he didn’t mind speaking with her. She was nice and Dean needed a distraction. Her questions were the perfect distraction.

"I’m fifteen," Dean told her, a slight blush rising on his cheeks.

Her eyes widened slightly as she gasped, "But you're so young… Do you parent leave you alone like this often?"

“I mean, my dad travels a lot for work but he doesn’t usually just leave me like this. This was something that couldn’t be avoided though. Normally when he leaves, Sammy is with me so I don’t mind." Dean tried his best to explain without getting into too much detail. There were still somethings that he couldn’t tell to anyone, they wouldn’t understand.

"Sammy, is that your sibling?" Amber asked curiously.

"Sam," Dean said, hopefully emphasizing that only he was the only one allowed to call him Sammy. "He's my eleven year old dweeb brother. He’s a damn genius, way smarter than I am. Annoying as hell too, but I love him to death."

"He sounds wonderful," Amber whispered happily. "Are you boys close?"

Dean nodded smiling as he thought about Sam, "He's my best friend and I'd do anything for that kid.”

"You sound like a great big brother. Sam is lucky to have you."

"Yeah, well I don't always feel like a great big brother.” Dean huffs, letting some of his insecurities bubble to the surface. He glanced at Amber briefly before continuing, “He’s does stupid stuff, stupid dangerous stuff that I should stop, but I can’t.... He's just so young and I don’t want anything bad to happen to him."

Dean though about the cases that he and Sam had help their father with over the years. There were so many instances where they could have died, both of them. With all the creatures that they had fought, Dean was sometimes surprised that his family survived. Any one of the monsters could have killed his brother, and Dean wasn’t doing anything to stop it. Sam was too young to hunt and Dean knew it. He didn't need to see those kinda things now, or ever. Dean wanted to get Sam out of the life before he really did get killed.

Sam had only started hunting a few years ago. He helped work his first case at age nine, which was far too young in Dean’s opinion. The only reason Sam hadn’t started earlier was because Dean had been adamant about keeping his brother in the dark. He begged his father to let Sam be a kid for a little bit longer. That plea had only worked for so long though.

Dean remembered his own first hunt. He had been seven at the time. That day had changed him forever. They had been hunting a vengeful spirit, but it was a nasty one. The screams of the spirit as it burned reminded Dean far too much of his own mothers death. It had been hard on him, watching fire engulf the spirit as it died. Much like the day his mother was killed, the images of his first hunt had been imprinted into his mind.

That day Dean decided that day that he hated hunting. He hated it with a passion and wished he never had to go on another hunt. Dean never admitted this to his father though. John wouldn’t stand for that. Hunting was the family business and they saved a lot of lives doing it. His father would never let him quit the life, not until his mother’s killer was dead. Dean didn't resent John for this, he just wished him and Sam could have lived a normal childhood. If he really wanted someone to blame, it was yellow eyes.

Dean knew that no matter how much he hated hunting he had to keep on fighting for his dad and Sammy. They needed him to stay strong, so Dean kept on hunting day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year. Part of him believed that he would find himself hunting until the day he died. Dean had to be there for his family. If that mean he had to hunt his whole life, than God help him he would just to keep his family alive and well.

Dean remembered the first hunt that Sam went on. His little brother had seemed almost unfazed by the whole deal, though he never concealed his dislike for hunting. Sam complained about being on the road all the time, about jumping from school to school, about each hunt that he had to go on. Sam hated hunting and he made sure everyone knew it. Dean wished that he had been able to keep Sam away from hunting all together. His brother was too young for this and far too impressionable, not to mention all the question he constantly asked. One of the hardest parts of it all was the torrent of questions that Sam would fire off at him. Most of the questions would be things like,  _'Why don't we have a mom Dean?', 'Dean, why do we have to move around so much?', 'When is dad going to be back this time?', 'Dean, do I have to go on another hunt?', ‘Why does dad make us go hunting with him Dean?’_

With each question Dean had grown more and more tired. As Sam got older the questions grew less frequent, but the number of hunts they had to go on increased. Sam had soon realized that the less questions he asked the better things would be. Sometimes not knowing was better.

Dean felt a pang in his chest as he though back to the first time his brother had gotten hurt on a hunt.

That had been hard for Dean to see. It was a hunt gone wrong, Sam had freaked out during the case and the costs had been devastating. They had been hunting a spirit, and he was supposed to salt and burn the body. However, when the spirt appeared front of him, Sam froze and he had been thrown back twenty feet. Dean remembered the world going red and he functioned on instinct alone. He had lit a match and torched the spirt before dashing over to his brother to check on him.

At first, Dean was sure that Sam was dead. He had been so still and pale, but when he checked his brother’s pulse he was relieved to find its dull thrum. 

Once he had been taken to the hospital, Sam had been out for three days. Dean remembered sitting beside him in the hospital room, Sam completely unresponsive, leaving Dean's mind a muddled mess of pain and emotions. Dean didn’t pray often, but during those three days, he prayed more than ever before. He prayed that his brother would heal quickly, that Sam could get out of the life, that he could actually be normal one day. Dean just wanted his brother to be okay. He knew that he wouldn't be able to go own without his little brother by his side.

Once Dean knew his brother was going to be alright, he snapped and channeled all his anger towards his father.  For the first time in his life, Dean yelled at his father, really yelled at him. He screamed at John, blaming him for putting Sam in this kind of situation, asking him how he could care so little about their lives. He hadn’t been able to hold back his anger that time so he let his father have it. His father had sat in silence, letting him vent for a solid thirty minutes.

When Dean had calmed down, John had told him that he’d _'Never forgive himself for letting Sam get hurt'_ and how he was  _'Trying his best, but he couldn't be a perfect father'._ Dean refused to talk to his father for three days after that, refusing to leave Sam’s side until he finally woke up.

Sam meant everything to Dean. He was the one who was always there through each move and each state they passed through. Yeah they fought a lot, but they were siblings and that's what they were supposed to do. They weren't always supposed to get along; they just had to be there for one another when it really mattered. He never wanted to see his brother back in the hospital or worse, a morgue, just because of a hunt gone wrong.

That was why Dean needed to get to Tennessee fast. He loved his dad, but he didn't always trust him to keep Sam out of trouble. Hell, John couldn't keep himself out of trouble half the time, that's why he had Dean. Dean was the glue to their messed up little family.

Dean was the peace when Sam and John butted head. He was the voice of reason when all logic seemed to fly out the window. His family needed him, but the painful truth was… Dean needed them more. They were the only reason that he wanted to go on. Without them Dean would have nothing. They were his reason for hope and happiness. When he thought of home, he imagined himself with them. Sometimes a home wasn't just a house; sometimes it was the people that you’re with that can make somewhere a home. Dean needed his home. His family was his sanity and his stability.

Dean sighed deeply and looked over at Amber as she said, "I'm sure you're a wonderful brother."

"I sure hope so..." Dean murmured back, though he wasn’t sure she heard him.

Before any more questions could be asked, Dean felt the plane began to vibrate as the engine was revved up.

He heard the overhead speakers come on as the voice of the one of the pilots said, "Good afternoon flyers, this is you're pilot speaking. We will soon be leaving the runway, so I ask that everyone please stay in your seat and buckle up so we can have a safe and happy flight."

The speakers crackled loudly as the pilot got off the com and let the air fill with the soft chatter of people. Dean pressed himself further back into his the seat as the plane began to roll forward.

Before Dean knew it he felt them turning onto the runway as they started to pick up speed.

His heart felt like it was in his throat, knowing what was coming next.  _Take off._

Dean hated taking off. He hated the way his ears popped as they went up. He hated the way his stomach dropped the moment he felt the tires lifting off the runway. He hated knowing that maybe, just maybe the plane would never make it fully off the runway and end up exploding into a giant ball of fire. Dean would have rather run all the way to Tennessee if it meant he didn’t have to fly. Dean just wanted off this damn plane.

With his eyes squeezed shut, he felt someone place a hand over his. Dean jumped violently and eyes snapping over to Amber. He had pretty much forgotten that she was even there.  

Their eyes met momentarily before Dean flipped his hand over and scrambled to clutch at her fingers. Her fingers laced easily with his and held him securely, to try and tell him that everything would be alright.  When he felt that sinking pit in his stomach begin, Dean started squeezing Amber's hand for all he was worth. He held onto her hand so tightly that he was worried that her bones would crack in his palm.

When the plane finally leveled out Dean loosened his grip on Amber’s hand and pulled it back quickly.  Dean was still ashamed of the fact that he was fucking afraid of flying after all the things he’s hunted and all the horrors he’s seen. Who would have guessed, him  _Dean Winchester,_ scared of something so... _so normal._

"Wow, you have quite a grip there," Amber chuckled softly as she flexed and rubbed at her red hand.

"Sorry..." Dean murmured apologetically.

"It’s alright, don't worry about it. Just try to relax alright. Try to take a nap or something. It makes the time pass by quicker,” she told him kindly.

Dean snorted, yeah right; his chances on sleeping on the plane were slim to none. There was no way he’d be able to sleep on this rattling metal deathtrap.

He chewed on his lip uncomfortably and braced himself for the ride ahead of him.

Much to Dean’s surprise, the first half an hour of the flight relatively smoothly.  He had expected the trip to be far worse than it was. Yes, they had hit some turbulence, but overall, everything seemed to be running smoothly. Plus, there weren’t any screaming children on board, so at least he wouldn’t be deaf when he landed in Tennessee.

Eventually, a flight attendant passed by and asked Dean if he needed anything. Before she had finished talking, Dean brushed her off and said that he was fine. Judging by the smile she had given him initially, Dean was sure that she wanted to get into his pants. Dean really didn’t care though. She had a pretty face and a nice body, but he really wasn’t too focused on any of that. He was too stressed to eat, to tense to sleep, and had absolutely no desire to join the Mile High Club. He preferred his sex when he was on squishy bed, not a million miles up in the sky. No thank you not interested.  Dean was not in the mood.

When the flight attended walked away she looked slightly disappointed, but Dean couldn’t bring himself to care. This was no place for kindness and formalities, Dean just wanted off the damn plane.

About half an hour later, the storm that had been rolling towards California finally caught up to them. Dean had known the storm was going to be rough as soon as they hit the first patch of turbulence.

Outside the aircraft, thunder growled loudly and lightning split through the sky. Most of on board seemed completely unfazed by the fact that there was now a storm twisting and churning around them. How could they not be worried about this? What if the wind got too strong or a tornado started up and pulled them down! Dean didn’t really know if California got tornados, but with his luck it would be like one of those freak storms that happened once every half a million years. Sam would know for sure if California had tornados. He’d have to ask his brother after they landed.

As the storm’s intensity picked up, the overhead lights flashed on, telling everyone stay in their seats and to buckle their seatbelts.

Of course his belt was still clicked securely into place and he had barely shifted more than an inch since the plane took off. Dean couldn’t help but be thankful for the fact that he no longer had the window seat. It made his experience just a little bit better, but Amber had opened the window back up earlier and then fell asleep before shutting the shade again.

So far, Dean had managed not to look out that window, or any other window for that matter, the entire flight. It didn’t stop him from seeing the blinding flashes of lightning all around the aircraft, nor did it stop the thunder from screaming at them for invading in its domain and it certainly didn’t stop the plane from swinging to and fro from wind and turbulence.

Soon, the rocking of the plane became so violent that not even the flight attendances were walking around anymore. The people around him were finally starting to look a little bit unsettled.

 _‘Of all the damn flights I had to get on, I had to pick the fucking bumpiest fucking one,’_ Dean thought angrily to himself.

John was really gonna owe him for this one. His dad was lucky that Dean was on this flight at all. He certainly wished he was anywhere but here. This was a nightmare.

Thunder crashed around them again, booming deafeningly and making him jump in surprise. That had been the loudest rumble yet. It was followed by a blinding flash of lightning that left him blinking flashing spots away for far longer than he desired.

Suddenly, Amber, who had somehow been asleep through most of this, jolted upright. Her eyes were wide and shocked, as horror filled her face. Hazel eyes connected with Dean’s and he couldn’t help noticed that there was something strange about the way she was watching him.  Her mouth was parted in a slightly ‘O’ shape and her face was white as a sheet. If Dean hadn’t been so terrified, he would have said that her expression was almost comical.

He was about to ask what was wrong when the plane belched out a loud ear splitting scream. The next thing Dean knew, the cabin was launched into darkness. It took less than a second for the emergency lights to come on. The lights cast an eerie shadow across the whole cabin. Air bags began dropping from the roof as people began to scream. Dean clutched wildly for his air mask and hurriedly strapped it to his face.

Seconds later, the Captain’s voice came over the com and instructed everyone to remain calm and put their face masks on. He reminded everyone to keep their belts buckled and to make sure that they helped their children with their own air masks.

Amber’s, hand was on Dean’s again. Her nails scrabbled at the back of his before she clutched his wrist tightly. Dean’s breath was shallow and broken as he let go of the seat arm and flipped his hand for her to hold.  This time, her grip was just as tight as Dean’s had been. He wasn’t sure of the quivering he felt was caused by how own panic or by the rattling of the plane itself.

Dean was sure that his heart was going to beat right out of his chest as he felt his stomach drop. He was literally living his worst nightmare.

Dean knew they were falling he just knew it. He could tell by the nauseating, sinking in his stomach and by the painful popping in his ears as the altitude dropped faster than his body could adjust.

Dean was hyperventilating and knew he was probably going to go into shock or even pass out if he didn’t get his breathing under control (that is, if he didn’t fucking die first). Maybe he really should have tried to join the mile high club when the flight attendant had walked by. At least he would have been able to go out with an amazing blow job or something.

All thoughts of the flight attended were forced from Dean’s mind when he glanced to the side. He realized how big of a mistake he had made when he noticed that the entire wing on his side was missing.  Where the wing was supposed to be was only jagged metal and thick cables whipping in the air.  There were sparks shooting from the broken wing and Dean knew he was about to die.

He forced his gaze away from the window and squeezed his eyes shut.  Dean thought of Sammy’s bright cheery face and silently thanked God that Sam wasn’t stuck on this plane with him.

Dean was sure that he had only seconds left before they made contact with the ground. So with what Dean knew were probably his final seconds of life, he remembered all the good times he had with his family.

Dean remembered helping his little brother learn to walk, and showing him how to ride that old rusted bike they found in Bobby’s junk yard. It had taken ages for him to find a new chain and get it into usable condition, but it had been so worth it to see Sam’s toothy smile.

Dean remembered the first time his father had taken him out into an empty field and shown him how to shoot a gun. Dean had been a natural; he nailed every can on the very first try. John had been so damned proud of him. He remembered the first time his dad let him drive the Impala. Being the one behind that leather bound steering wheel had been thrilling, scary and fun all at once. Best of all, he didn’t even crash.

Dean remembered the days when Bobby would take him and Sam to the park so they could throw a baseball around on cool summer days. Bobby always let them have a little fun when John was out. He had made sure that him and Sam had fun every now and then and didn’t overwork themselves.

Dean thought of the Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners at Bobby’s place. They didn’t go there every year for the holidays, but when they did, it was always amazing. Bobby made the best food and they all stuffed themselves until they felt like they were going to puke as they laughed and joked. They’d then spend the rest of the evening exchanging hunting stories with one another until he and Sam fell asleep on the couch.

Finally, Dean thought of his mother, how she had been before she died. Dean remembered her singing ‘Hey Jude’ to him at night when he couldn’t sleep. He remembered the chicken soup she made him when he didn’t feel well and how nice the house would smell when she made apple pies. Sometimes his mother had even let him have some of the pie before dinner. Dean thought of the bedtime stories she’d read to him and Sam right before bed.

Dean remembered when they were a happy, whole family. It had been only a short period of time, but Dean missed it all the same. He truly wished that things could be like that once again. Dean wanted to remember his family like this, happy and smiling. Maybe, just maybe, his brother would be able to get out of the life and have a family of his own, give his own kids the life they never had. Dean hoped all the best things in life for his little brother and was sad that he wasn’t going to be there with him anymore.

_‘I’m sorry Sammy’_

Those were Dean’s last thought before his entire body went from free falling to dead stop. He felt pain rip across his senses followed by a loud, broken scream being drawn from his own throat.

All at once, his scream was cut short and the pain dissolved into red fire, followed by blissful silence and darkness.


	3. Falling

Everything around him seemed to be on fire. The acrid scent of jet fuel and smoke filled his airways and attempted to suffocate him. The only sound that filled his head was a sharp painful ringing accompanied by a burning sensation in his ear canals. His body was aching with pain and Dean never wanted to move again. Everything hurt too much.

Against his will, Dean's body began convulsing with deep, painful coughs. His head was swimming and his vision was too blurred to make out anything other than a sickening blend of swirling colors. Dean felt salty tears dripping from the corners of his eyes with each bone shattering cough that forced its way through his body.

After what seemed like years, Dean was finally able to stop coughing and minimize his pain level a little better.  Dean realized with a sinking feeling in his chest that he must have blacked out. Now the real question was why had he passed out? Dean couldn't remember what he had been doing before his apparent blackout.  He blinked in rapid secession in hopes of clearing his vision a little more. Right now, he felt like he was lost in a world of confusion.

The more aware he became, the louder the ringing in his head seemed to get.  Dean started to wonder if he had gone deaf or something. With a shaking hand, Dean lifted his arm and let his fingers trail across the skin near his ear. He didn't really feel anything out of the ordinary there, so he tried to apply some pressure to the area. The moment that his fingers pressed down pain erupted through his head and stars flashed before his eyes.

When he pulled his hand away, his fingers felt wet and sticky. He brought his hands closer to his face and attempted to bring his fingertips into focus. Dean furrowed his brow in concern and confusion when he discovered the dampness on his fingers was a thin layer of fresh blood. Clearly, he had damaged his ears, but how did that happen in the first place?  The answer to that question was still evading him, hanging at the tip of his tongue, but just out of reach.  What the hell had happened to him?

It was like he had been struck in the head which had left him with a worrying case of amnesia. Dean was grasping desperately for the pieces of the puzzle but they seemed to be moving further and further away from him. As sensation slowly began returning to the other parts of his body, Dean began to notice the heat. It was hot where he was and getting hotter with each passing second. The heat had to be caused by a fire, a big one. His heart leaped into his throat as an image of his mother burning on the ceiling forced its way to his attention. Dean forced himself to cling to that image and used it to help put together the rest of the pieces. His mom, she has been killed in a fire by a demon. A demon was a monster and him and his family killed monsters. Sam and his father had been hunting a changeling, but what then? Dean was close, he knew it. There was just one piece that was still missing from his memories.

Dean almost blacked out again when he remembered what piece he was forgetting. His father had taken Sam to go hunt and Dean was on a plane. He was flying to them so he could help with the case.  No, he was crashing, falling, plummeting from the sky at a thousand miles an hour! He had hit the ground.

The plane had smashed into the earth causing a massive explosion followed by the bending screech of buckling metal.

That would explain the cause of the ringing in his ears. The explosion would have been pretty loud and more than likely damaged his eardrums. He didn't really remember the explosion, though. He must have blacked out before the explosion happened.

Dean looked around carefully, turning his head slowly to avoid being hit with a dizzy spell. The plane was in shambles. It was hardly recognizable anymore. Half the plane was engulfed in fire and there were jagged edges of metal sticking out everywhere. Those shards could easily slice a human arm clean off and the fire was probably hot enough to boil flesh from bone. Dean was less than willing to give either theory a try. He was already in enough pain as it was.

The longer Dean looked around at the mess, the more he became aware of all the motionless bodies. It hadn't even occurred to him that others might have survived. He looked beside him, hoping to see Amber's hazel eyes. Dean immediately regretted his decision and almost lost the contents of his stomach.

His heart clenched painfully at the sight of Amber lifeless body. She had been so kind to him throughout the flight but now she was pinned to her seat by a large piece of metal that protruded from her chest. Fresh blood coated the metal and seeped down the edges of the wound.  Dean could tell without even checking her pulse that Amber was dead. She was gone and there was nothing that Dean could do about it.

Amber had died in the crash.

 _'That would have been me,'_ Dean thought with a sickening twist in his gut. _'If she hadn't traded seats with me I would be the one dead right now. That would be me'_

He forced himself to wrench his eyes away from Amber and he tried to move from his own seat. His let his hunter instincts kick in as he thought about others that may have survived. Some of the other passengers might have been more fortunate than Amber. If so, Dean needed to save them as quickly as possible. Even if it meant risking his own life, Dean knew that's what he had to do. He didn't want to leave any survivors behind to be consumed by fire. Plus, he had to keep an eye out for supernatural things that might have caused the plane to go down. Yeah, there had been a pretty nasty storm, but sometimes monsters could cause lighting storms like that.

Speaking of storms, Dean could feel the rumbling of the thunder through the ground. He couldn't hear it, but he could certainly feel the storm still raging outside. That was the only thing that made Dean start to doubt his theory about supernatural causes. If the storm hadn't stopped as soon as the plane went down then the storm was probably a natural occurrence. Still... his instincts still warned him to be alert none the less. As a hunter, you could never be too careful.

When Dean tried moving again, his whole body recoiled from the pain. If he had thought the pain of staying still was bad, trying to move was even worse. His whole body felt like it was hooked up to an electric current.  Slowly, he tried to assess the worst of the damage. It took him a minute to pinpoint any one area of pain, but he was pretty sure that his left elbow was dislocated. He must have hit it on the seat or something as they crashed. His arm would be pretty useless until he popped it back into place. Although, sitting at this angle wouldn't really do him any good. He'd have to make due for now.

Using his good hand, Dean fumbled with his tattered seatbelt, fighting with the release button. When the belt fell away from him, Dean sighed in relief. Slowly, he stood, grabbing at the seat in front of him as he swayed dangerously on his feet. He wondered his legs would even support him if he tried to walk. As he straightened up, his arm hung limply at his side smarting painfully with each intake of air. The pain was really the only thing that was grounding him right now. The pain was the only thing that felt real.

Without a backward glance, Dean slid carefully out of his seat and staggered into the aisle of the plane. Walking with slow, shaking steps, he moved towards the tail of the plane.  Each row he passed left Dean increasingly discouraged.  So far, it was looking like he was the only one who had survived. He even tried checking everyone for a pulse. Everyone who had been sitting in the rows behind him had died in the crash.

When he reached the very back of the plane, Dean ducked into the flight attendant area and looked around. That was empty too with no signs of life, but it didn't stop him from grabbing a mesh bag and using his good arm to sweep all of the edible food and drinks that he could into the sack. He had no idea where they had crashed so it was better to be prepared if they had landed away from civilization. Plus, Dean wasn't sure how long he had until the plane really exploded. He wanted to be as prepared as possible.

Once he finished, he turned around and began walking towards the opposite end of the flight. He considered searching through some of the carry-on luggage for some useful items. In the end, he ruled that option out because he shouldn't be wasting time. The last thing he needed to do was try to and push his already scares luck. Not only that, but he still hadn't checked the front of the plane for survivors. At the moment, that was Dean's priority. He was sure that there were thousands of gallons of fuel leaking into the ground, just begging the flames to consume it. Time was of the essence.

Dean hoped that maybe if he had enough time, he would find someone alive and they'd be able to grab at least one or two bags of luggage since a fresh change of clothes would be nice and Dean didn't really have any luggage of his own.

As Dean walked back up the plane he began to realize that his injuries might be much worse than he originally though.  Adrenaline and his will to survive had dulled his senses and made his injuries seem better than they were.  Dean gritting his teeth as his right leg began to smart painfully and making him limp. He could feel the tightness of his shoe as it dug into his leg around a severely swollen ankle. At one point, Dean tripped over stray debris and almost toppled down to the floor. When he caught himself, his dislocated elbow jerked hard and sent pain burning and pulsing through his body. Dean bit back a scream as he clutched at his arm. In the process, Dean dropped the bag of food which landed with a muffled clang. He winced at the sharp sound it made but was relieved to learn that he hadn't gone completely deaf.

Slowly, Dean bent to pick up the bag of food. To his surprise, he spotted another bag, one of the carry-ons from another passenger. It was pretty close to him and appeared to have fallen out of one of the overhead compartments during the crash. Dean limped closer and silently prayed that it wasn't super heavy. He could use as much supplies as he could find. Dean still had no idea where they had landed.  When he picked up the back, Dean discovered that it wasn't super light, but he'd be able to carry it with him for at least a little while.

The air around him was rising to intolerable temperatures as the fire continued to consume the remainders of the plane.  The flickering flames were his only source of light, sending dark shadows dancing all around. The shadows gave Dean a feeling of unease, but he couldn't really pinpoint why. Outside, he could still hear the thunder, though it seemed to be getting further away. The planes frame rattled under his feet and Dean it wouldn't be struck by lightning. He didn't think this plane could handle much more damage sure that the aircraft.

With his small collection of gear, Dean checked in the remaining passengers. When he finished, Dean was overcome with a wave of guilt and despair, realizing that he was the only one who had survived. Everyone else had died. The planes max capacity was 220 passengers and though the flight hadn't been full, Dean guessed that there were about 180 people aboard, including himself. How had only one person managed to survive? Someone or something must have been watching out for him. He was lucky to be alive, although he wouldn't exactly call the resulting situation 'lucky'.

He pursed his lips in agony and despair as he looked across the ruins before him. All of these people had families to return to, people who cared about them and loved them. Now none of them would ever go home. None of those people would ever make it out of this and that hit him hard. So many good lives had been lost today.

Dean was completely alone. Out of everyone, he felt that he was the least worthy of survival. His body felt numb and he tried to block out the savagery around him. Dean thought of his brother, and his chest ached at the thought of being without him. Sam was really the person who made him feel truly alive. His brother was the only person that Dean could call home. He could only hope that when he walked off this plane he would find a street full of people and medics waiting outside to take him away from this nightmare. He prayed that he wasn't in the middle of a river or a forest or some shit like that. Dean was pretty sure that he wouldn't get very far in water with his arm the way it was. Not to mention that his toes would probably get eaten off by piranhas or some other nasty creature that lived in the water.

 _'Actually, I think I would take piranhas to this any day of the week'_ Dean thought to himself bitterly.

The fire was licking closer to him, and Dean knew before long, the flames would trap him on board and end up killing him too.  He wondered how much time he had wasted on this plane or how long it had been since the crash. Dean glanced down at his watched was frustrated to find that it had been broken in the crash. This was just great. Everything seemed to be working against him.

Dean spotted the emergency exit close by and stepped gingerly towards it. He braced himself against the metal and used much of his rapidly dwindling strength to force open the heavy handle. The door opened with a loud pop and cool, fresh air swirled in around him. He took a deep breath of the sweet air to rid his lungs of the smoke that had filled them.  When Dean glanced over the side of the plane, he was relieved to find that there was no water below him and the inflatable emergency exit slide had unfurled after the crash. He tossed down his bags of supplies first and watched them as they slip down to the ground.  Next, he attempted to clamber down onto the slide, but he over calculated and his foot slipped from underneath him. Dean was sent crashing head over heels down the safety slide.

When he hit the ground, Dean had to bite back a scream of pain. If he thought he had been in pain before the fall, he had been kidding himself. Dean tried his best to protect his head and his injured arm in the fall, but that did little to help the electric pain that course through his body when he struck the damp, hard ground. He groaned and curled into the fetal position, good arm clutched around his middle. Dean was pretty sure that he had just cracked two of his ribs.

He lay on the ground for a good two minutes at least. His eyes were pressed tightly together, his head sinking into the squishy wet ground as drops of rain water coated his skin. Dean just wanted the pain to stop. He wanted everything to stop. Any kind of movement right now was bad movement.

As far as he could tell, his ribs had been the only thing broken in the fall. That was a bit of a comfort to him.  He knew he could still function with fractured ribs, but something like broken leg could be deadly if there was no one around. Since he didn't hear the sounds of people around him, Dean was pretty sure that they hadn't landed in a public place. Dean really wished that he had some Tramadol or OxyContin right now. He was in serious need of painkiller right about now.

When his pain level finally lowered a bit, Dean dared to move so he could get a better idea of where he was.  As he painstakingly sat up, Dean felt his hopes be dashed again. Instead of seeing a city or streets around him filled with people, all he saw was a forest of trees, hundreds of them, thousands (or at least most of the remains of trees). Many of them were charred and burnt from the heat of the plane crash; some of them were even still on fire.

He had literally crashed in the middle of a forest.

A fucking forest in the middle of God knows where.

That only added to his foul luck. Leave it to him to get on the one plane that goes down in the middle of fucking nowhere. If his judgment was correct, he was pretty sure the plane had been in the air for about an hour before the wreck. This meant that he was probably somewhere between Nevada and Utah. Dean was thankful that he had thought to grab about half a dozen bottles of water before he got off the plane. Those were really gonna come in handy out here. He figured that it would probably take a few days before he was rescued. A few hours at the least, but Dean was sure someone would come and find him. No one just let an airplane carrying this many people go missing. Everyone would be demanding answers. They'd want to find the missing people as quickly as possible.

Once again, Dean wondered if news about the crash had gotten back to his family yet. Were there emergency services already out here looking for him? Was John sitting in some airport waiting impatiently for waited for his plane to come in? Dean's thoughts suddenly shifted into an even darker mindset as he thought to himself. 'What if they're dead? What if those changelings killed them? What if they're lying in some fucking forest just as dead as I'm gonna be if I don't get out of here?' His head was filled with worry and stress. This had to be the worst day of his fucking life.

Since there was no one alive on board the plane, Dean decided that it was finally time to pick himself up off the ground and start moving away from the plane in case it exploded. He knew that if that jet fuel came into contact with the fire he would be screwed. Since the rain was doing nothing to slow the fire, he was pretty sure it wouldn't stop an explosion either. Hopefully, if the fires died down and the plane didn't explode, Dean would be able to get back on board and collect more supplies and luggage (although the thought of seeing all those dead bodies again wasn't too appealing).

After limping around the forest for about ten minutes Dean found a shallow empty cave that faced away from the wreckage. Fortunately, the cave seemed enough away to keep Dean safe in the plane did blow and it would also keep him dry. It was the best he could do for now. In his condition, he didn't suspect that his body would let him walk too much further.

Once he made it under the shelter of the cave, dragging his supply bags with him, Dean knew that it was time to fix his arm.

There was no way around this, he had to do it. It was better not to wait, but he knew it was gonna hurt like a mother fucker. Normally, this was something that John or Sam would do for him. Dislocated limbs were nothing new to Dean and knew all too well how to fix them. Popping everything back into place was far from a pleasant experience and it left the limb sore and bruised for days.

Dean helped fix some for Sam and his dad, but he had never tried fixing a dislocation joint on himself. Today was just full of new challenges. He honestly wasn't even sure if this would work, but he also knew that he couldn't leave his arm. The sooner he got this over with, the better off he'd be.

Dean gritted his teeth and sat down on the floor of the cave. He extended his legs out in front of himself and put his knees up. Then, using his good arm, Dean guided his injured arm until it came to rest painfully between his knees.

He squeezed his arm tightly between his legs and took a deep inhale of breath. Dean tried his best to imagine that this arm didn't belong to him. This was just himself helping Sam with a dislocated shoulder or something. He totally wasn't trying to fix this himself he just needed to relax, breathe, and focu-

Dean pulled hard, interrupting is own thoughts. His knees pushed forward and he propelled his shoulder and torso in the opposite direction.

He felt a strange sickening pop in his arm and knew that it had worked, but his success was immediately masked by the pain that hit him. Dean felt a pain unlike anything else before. He wasn't sure why it had hurt so bad, maybe it was because of the fractured ribs too, but Dean heard himself let out a blood-curdling scream of pain. He couldn't help it. Tears of agony spilled down his face and splashed onto his ruined shirt, while his screams echoed off the cave walls. Dean was sure that his wails were loud enough to raise the dead.

As his pain ebbed away, Dean began to see stars flash before his eyes. Before he knew what was happening, the world seemed to dim and fade. He felt his body go slack and limp, barely registering the sinking feeling in his stomach as he lost consciousness.

~~~

This time when Dean awoke he knew exactly where he was. He couldn't have been out for more than a minute before coming to again.

As the cave came into focus, Dean realized he could now remember every last detail of the crash. He remembered violent quakes of turbulence as they fell from the sky all the way to the details of each face he had seen on the aircraft.

Dean groaned and squeezed his eyes shut as his body throbbed. His stomach twisted painfully as he slowly became aware of the throbbing at the back of his head.  Dean could feel a knot growing there. He must have hit his head when he had passed out. How come it seemed like everything he did just lead to another fucking injury? He just couldn't win, could he?

When Dean found the strength to sit up, he was sure to move as slow as possible. He didn't need his head hurting anymore that it already was. Once he was sitting, Dean let his arms drop to his lame arm. It didn't want to move; or rather Dean didn't want to move it. Just because he had successfully popped it back into place didn't mean that the pain had gone away. He could feel the dull ache in his elbow from the trauma it had suffered.

Dean sighed and scooted slowly over to the carry-on bag he had snagged from the plane. With his good arm, he unzipped the bag and began to root around inside. He was relieved to find a set of fresh, clean clothing that smelled like heaven to Dean's nose. The clothes looked like they were a little too big for him, but right now he wasn't complaining. At least they were men's clothing. Clean clothes were clean clothes no matter if they fit him or not. After he set the clothes aside, he found other useful items in the bag. They were stupid little things like an unused toothbrush, a bar of soap and a towel. Some of the items were pretty useless to him like a set of car keys, a pair of eyeglasses, and some cash.

Dean almost tossed the cash aside but changed his mind a few minutes later.  In total, there was roughly three hundred dollars in the guy's wallet and Dean could sure use the cash if he made it out of this alive. Maybe once he recovered a little, he could go hiking and see if he could find some civilization.

Once Dean had stashed away the money he carefully pulled his dirty shirt over his head. The shirt smelled awful, reeking of burnt cotton and death. Dean wanted to get rid of that odor as quickly as possible; it was starting to make him sick to his stomach. Maybe he'd be able to find a stream to wash off in or something. After all, he did have a new bar of soap now...

Slowly Dean stood up and stripped off his jeans too so he was standing in only his underwear. The replacement pants weren't jeans like Dean's. They were soft stretchy sweatpants and were a little baggy around the ankles, but felt nice against his sore skin. The shirt was a little bit big for him, but it was short sleeved so at least the sleeves didn't go past his fingers. Once he was redressed, he resumed his examination of the stolen bag.

His heart leaped in excitement when he found a small bottle of medicine. He said a silent prayer of relief when he read the bottle and found that they were painkillers. Unfortunately, just an over-the-counter painkiller and not something more heavy duty, but it was better than nothing. It would at least make things just a little more bearable.

Dean didn't waste any time swallowing down four of the pills. He grabbed a bottle of water and quickly washed the medicine down. He knew he had taken more than the directed dosage, but Dean was in some serious pain. He needed to be numb so he could clear his mind.

After that, Dean put aside the water and the remaining meds as he dug deeper into the guy's stuff. After a few minutes, he found a photo of a man and a pretty young woman. The two of them looked happy together; their arms wound tightly around each other and wide smile on their faces. This must be who the bag belonged unpleasant.

Dean felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes so he hurriedly tossed the photo back into the mix of items. The last thing Dean wanted was to get emotional about someone who he hadn't even met. Dean had more important things to worry about than the life of some random guy. Lack of empathy got even harder when Dean found a shiny silver ring tucked away in a black velvet box. It looked like an engagement ring. He must have been planning on proposing to his girl while on this trip. Now he would never get that chance and they would never have a life together.

Dean threw the ring angrily.

"This isn't fucking fair," he screamed angrily.

Dean was breathing heavily, hot wet tears threatening to spill onto his cheeks. He needed to compose himself and keep his emotions in check. Right now was not a good time to have a mental breakdown. He needed to focus on his survival out here until someone was able to find him.

On a whim, Dean grabbed one of the extra shirts from the luggage and tore it into strips. He used one of the bigger strips to make himself a makeshift sling for his arm. Struggling slightly, Dean pulled the sling around his neck and placed his arm into the cradle part. It wasn't great, but it served its purpose well enough. It had also effectively distracted him from the emotions trying to well up inside him.

As Dean began to pile the stuff back into the bag, something caught his eye. There was a little piece of black material sticking out of the side of the bag. He hadn't seen it at first since it was the exact same color as the bag. When he reached for the material Dean he wanted to laugh with relief. It was a blanket. This guy had packed a blanket. Dean could have cried.

The sky outside was growing dimmer as Dean pulled the blanket free from the bag. It was soft and warm as Dean rubbed the fabric against his face. His body began to feel strange and tingly as he sat on the floor of the cave. The medicine must be kicking in. After a minute of sitting there in a daze, Dean put the rest of the items into the bag and zipped it up once again.

Using his good foot, Dean pushed the bag to the side of the cave. Then, he slid over to the bag of food and dumped out its contents.

He apparently hadn't gotten as much food as he had thought. When he sorted it all out, he was left with a decent stack of crackers, a bag of weird looking bread rolls, a few packaged chocolate muffins and about ten bags of those little bags of airplane peanuts. He also had seven water bottles (counting the one he had already opened) and three small cans of coke. No wonder the bag of food had been heavy...

Dean's stomach growled hungrily as he looked down at the food. That pang of hunger reminded him that he had been too dumb to actually eat anything today. His nerves had made him lose his appetite. In the past, Dean had made some pretty stupid ass decisions and right now he was pretty sure that this was one of those times, but it was not far too late to change that.

With a small sigh of defeat, Dean grabbed a chocolate muffin and put the rest of the food away. Once he had settled against the wall of the cave Dean scarfed down the muffin, savoring the wonderful taste of it. After he had finished, the hunger was only slightly dulled. Despite that, he didn't dare eat any more of his rations. He would have to conserve his food in case he was out here for a few days. Dean had watched enough movies to know that. Eat only what you need to keep you from passing out until you know you're safe again. When he got back to civilization he could buy as much food and pie as he fucking wanted to so he could tolerate the hunger for at least a little while. Besides, he often ate less food than he should for a kid his age. Dean normally gave Sam a big portion of his own food so his brother would never be hungry. Dean would rather go to sleep a little hungry if it meant that Sam would never have to be hungry. Normally they had enough to keep both of them pretty well fed, but sometimes their father would be gone for much longer than expected. Sometimes their food money ran out before he came back and Dean would have to improvise and make do with what they had. He was careful to never let Sam find out about the sacrificing he made because Dean knew his brother would throw a huge bitch fit about it.

Outside of Dean's little cave, all he could hear were the sounds of the crackling flames, the pitter patter of pain against leaves, and the occasional crack of thunder. It seemed like all the animals had run away from the wreckage. They had all either fallen silent in mourning or run off to find a new place to stay. Dean figured that the animals probably had more sense than he did by leaving, but he was too tired and in too much pain to even think about trekking off through the woods tonight. Not to mention that it was already getting dark outside. The last thing Dean wanted was to run into some animal while he was roaming aimlessly around the forest. Especially once it got later. Any human not afraid of the dark is stupid.  The dark itself is not what should be feared, it's the things that live in the darkness.  You just have to hope that you're never alone when the shadows start to move. Dean could just wait until morning to explore the area more.

With the injuries he had received, Dean knew that he would be immediately seen as easy prey. He wouldn't stand a chance against something big and fierce like a wolf, mountain lion, or something far worse. Dean had no idea what creatures both normal and supernatural roamed around these woods. He was almost too scared to think about it.

Instead, Dean distracted himself by trying to make a little makeshift bed. He used the towel on the bottom so he wouldn't be lying on the cold stone. When he finished putting everything into place, he lay gingerly onto the hard ground, trying to use his soiled clothing as a makeshift pillow. It wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but it was better than nothing.

Dean was pretty sure that falling asleep right now wasn't the best idea especially after hitting his head against the rocks. However, couldn't really find the strength to care. He was tired, his eyes were heavy, his whole body hurt, and the medicine was starting to make him sleepy.

 _'Just five minutes...'_ Dean thought to himself with a stiff yawn. _'Or maybe longer... it's getting kinda late...'_

Dean pulled the thin blanket over his body and curled into himself. He tried to find a comfortable position, but no matter how he lay, some part of him was hurting. Eventually, he gave up and settled on a position that gave caused him the least amount of pain.

It wasn't like Dean hadn't sleep in unpleasant and uncomfortable places before, but this was a little bit different than normal. He was used to sleeping in shitty motel beds or the back seat of the Impala with Sam pressed against his side snoring away. Before now Dean had thought those had been unpleasant sleeping conditions. However, those seemed like fluffy clouds of air.

Mercifully, sleep soon found him. He wasn't sure how or when he fell asleep, but he allowed his heavy lids to slide shut as his breathing slowed down to a soft steady pace. His fractured ribs and his dislocated elbow ached a little, but the pain faded to a dull sensation at the back of his mind.

Outside, the plane still burned while the storm boiled down. Aside from the crackling of the fire, the world outside the cave fell silent as the last dregs of the day gave way to the darkness of night.

~~~

Dean had been sleeping peacefully, or as peacefully as you could get on the floor of the cave when something suddenly woke him hours later.

When he opened his eyes everything around him was black. In his sleep, he had apparently rolled over to face the back of the cave. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to prickle, warning him that something wasn't right. His hunter instincts telling him that danger was afoot.

Dean felt his heart begin to race as he slowly moved his hand to find something he could protect himself with.  He was relieved when he found a fist sized rock by his side and he clutched it tight, the edges biting into his palm.  Dean took a deep steadying breath of air and pushed aside all thoughts of pain, focusing only on his own self-defense. He pushed himself upright and whirled around lifting the rock in his hand and trying to look threatening.

What Dean saw made freeze in his tracks as fear ran through his veins like ice.

Right in front of him, less than two inches from his face was someone he hoped that he'd never see again. Well, not unless he had adequate weapons on hand, which he didn't.

Through the darkness, Dean could still see the reddish orange glow caused by the burning plane fire. Silhouetted in the light was the shape of a man. Though most of the man's face was shrouded in darkness, Dean could clearly see the evil, golden eyes of the yellowed eye demon right in front of him.

The monster of Dean's worst nightmares had finally found him. He had always hoped it would be the other way around.

But now, he found himself trapped in a cave, all alone with the demon, nothing but a small rock to protect for protection.

Dean was totally screwed.


	4. Eyes In the Night

 

"Well hey there champ," Yellow eyes taunted. "Long time no see. Last time I saw you I believe you a lot younger and uh… well, I remember it being a pretty fiery evening, to say the least."

"You sick son of a bitch," Dean roared as he felt anger build up inside of him. His heart was pounding against his fractured ribs.

Dean ignored his pain and exhaustion adrenaline coursed through his system. He lunged at the demon furiously, hungry to kill the monster that had ruined his life. Nothing else mattered right now; he had to get Yellow Eyes before it was too late. Dean's fingers grazed across its skin and he tried to curl his fingers around the demon's neck. However, before he could get a strong enough grasp, Yellow Eyes vanished into thin air and let Dean crumple painfully onto the stone floor of the cave.

Dean cried out as his pain blossomed across his kneecaps. That was just what he needed, more marks and bruises coating his body. Dean had thrown his hands down in the fall and they were now stinging from the impact.  He could feel the warm sensation of blood trickling from the deep scrapes gouged into his palms. His breathing became harsh as he tried to calm himself, ribs smarting and aching against the movement. The pain of impact had momentarily brought Dean back to his senses.

 _‘Did I just imagine that Yellow Eyes was here?'_ he asked himself. Dean was looking around wildly, trying to see if the demon had just moved too fast for him to comprehend or if this was all just a hallucination. 

"Now Dean is that the way your mummy taught you to act?" the same voice mocked. "Oh wait, that's right, I burned her before she could teach you manners."

Dean's head whipped around to find the source of the voice. Dean bared his teeth glared at the demon when his eyes landed on the beast. Apparently, he hadn't been hallucinating because Yellow Eyes was lounging lazily on the ground in the same place he had been sleeping not thirty seconds ago.

"I'm going to fucking kill you," Dean growled, his voice was flat and cold, filled with pure hatred.

The demon's eyes flashed in excitement as he said, "Oh are you now? Then why don't you come do it."

Dean curled his fingers around the rock in his hand, waiting for the perfect moment. With a lightning quick snap, Dean lifted his arm and hurled it at Yellow Eyes. He hoped the rock would provide a brief distraction so he could attack the demon and catch him off guard.

However, Dean's plan didn't work out quite the way he had hoped. He figured that it was a long shot. Dean watched as the demon easily dodged the rock. While the rock clattered along the cave floor Dean lunged. Once again, Yellow Eyes disappeared before Dean was able to reach him.

"Aw don't tell me that John let his boys get soft. I thought he was supposed to train you and your brother. Here I was thinking I might actually need to fight back instead of watching you have a temper tantrum," Yellow Eyes taunted him.

Dean wanted to scream. This was the first time in 12 years that he actually crosses paths with his mother's killer and he found himself alone and totally defenseless.

"You're right about being defenseless, but are you sure it's been twelve years Dean?" Yellow eyes sneered menacingly. "Hmm, well, that would make you about sixteen but you seem to be throwing a tantrum like a four-year-old."

Dean expression shifted from a look of anger into a look of horror. He watched as Yellow Eye's evil grin grew even bigger when he saw the fear on Dean's face. There was no way that Yellow Eyes could hear what he was thinking. That was impossible. He shouldn't be able to do that.

"Shouldn't but can," the demon cackled wickedly. "You of all people should know that anything is possible."

"Get the fuck out of my head you bottom feeding scum," Dean roared as he jumped at Yellow Eyes again. Like he expected, the demon vanished a third time and appeared in a new spot location seconds later.

 _‘How the fuck does he move that fast?'_ Dean asked himself as he looked down at his empty hands.

"Oh! Are we using big boy language now?" Yellow Eyes questioned.

"Fuck off," Dean spit. As he realized just how defenseless he really was, Dean couldn't help being grateful that Sam wasn't here to witness all of this.

"Oh don't worry Dean-o, his time is coming," Yellow Eyes purred in a tone that sent unconscious shivers of fear down his spine. "By the way, how is my dear little Sammy doing?"

"Don't you dare call him that," Dean seethed, his vision turned red. His body began to ache again as he fought to control his breathing.

"Oh dear, it looks as if I've hit a nerve. Is this all because of that day I burned down his tacky little nursery with your mother still inside?" Dean could see the fires of hell glinted evilly in the demon's eyes as he spoke. "Maybe I could repeat the scenario with you, Dean. I mean, there's already a fire blazing outside. All I'd have to do is throw you in. Then I could have your baby brother all to myself."

"If you lay damn hand on him-"

"Oh calm yourself down Dean. You've still got a long way to go. Like I said, his time will come, he not quite ripe enough yet. He's still so young and oblivious," Yellow Eye's hummed, his eyes sparkling with malicious intent as he spoke.

"You keep him out of this," Dean roared, balling his fists at his sides, nails digging little half crescent divots into his flesh.

"But Dean, he's the reason behind this and you know it. One day you will learn the truth, one day sooner that you realize, but not today," Yellow Eyes sneered with an evil cackle.

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Dean demanded as he tried to slowly creep closer to the demon in front of him.

"Nu uh, I can't give you any spoilers Dean. I don't want you reading the script before you've seen the whole show."

"Did you crash the plane?" Dean's heart was still pounded in his chest. This was his way of stalling the conversation. He needed to come up with a plan while keeping Yellow Eyes thoroughly distracted. Dean knew that this would be no easy task. Trying to coming up with a plan without actually thinking about it seemed impossible. If Yellow Eyes could read his mind, he would certainly know about Dean's plans the moment they crossed his mind.

"Oh I wish that crash had been me, but no, that was just bad luck. For once in your miserable life, that was something caused by natural events rather than supernatural ones." Yellow Eyes looked bored as he plucked at the hem of his shirt and explained this to Dean.

"How did you even find me?" Dean snapped. The longer he could keep Yellow Eyes talking the better.

"Well, I am a demon after all. I have my ways; you hear all kinds of rumors down where I'm from."

"Well, why don't you take your demon Intel and shove it somewhere that the sun doesn't shine," Dean growled with fire in his words. "I can help you with that one if you like. I'll even throw in some rock salt and a free ticket to your death."

"Oh how kind of you to offer Dean," the Demon taunted him. The sides of his lips were curling upwards into something Dean could only assume was a smile. "But, I think I'll have to pass on that one. I don't care much for empty threats."

"Oh don't worry, I don't make empty threats. I will be the one to kill you. You killed my mother and stole my brother's childhood, so I want to see your head on a golden, bloody platter. I want to feel myself pull the trigger and blast a bullet in your brain while I hold the smoking gun that ends your life." Dean vision was consumed with hate as he screamed threats to the heavens. Maybe if he shouted loud enough the angels would hear him and come to save him. Dean's scowl deepened as he realized how stupid that thought was. Angel's didn't exist. How could they? If angels were real then that must mean there was a God. If the big man upstairs was real, why was he letting so many monsters roam the earth? How could he let families be broken up and torn apart by inhuman creatures? Dean could feel his raw throat aching and burning with each word he shouted, but Dean could care less. The pain didn't matter anymore, only hate. He was letting his anger add more wood to the fire.

"Ah yes, and there is so much hate in that head of yours Dean," the demon sounded almost pleased as he spoke.

"Get out of my head!" Dean screamed. He could taste blood in his mouth as he ripped open a split on his lip that had been trying to heal.

"Now why would I do that?" Yellow Eyes asked, feigning innocence and curiosity. "You just have so much delicious darkness in that cranium of yours. So much hatred trapped inside of you. How can one person hate themselves this much? How can you keep all of that bottled up inside? Doesn't it drive you crazy?"

"Leave me alone!" Dean shouted as he childishly clapped his hand over his ears. The coppery taste of blood lingered in his mouth and gave him something to focus on so he could drown out the sound of Yellow Eyes voice.

Unfortunately, the demon just began to talk louder, forcing Dean to listen against his will. Despite trying to distract himself, Dean was still able to hear the demon's voice clear as day. "Wow… only fifteen years old and you already hate yourself more than anyone else you've ever met. You think you're useless and worthless. I mean, I guess you're not wrong. Daddy loves little Sammy more than you. Yeah, they may fight and scream at each other, but it's still more attention than he shows you. Sam is more like John than you ever will be. I see how hard you try to be like him, but you should just give it up Dean. You can never compare to your father's greatness. You are nothing compared to him. The weak son of a brave, strong hunter like him, you can never be on the same level as the legendary John Winchester.” The demon's voice continued to get louder with every word. His voice was booming and echoing off of every surface as he spoke.

Dean lifted his head an idea popping into his mind. As quickly as the idea occurred to him, he blocked it out and changed direction again. He only hoped that he had changed his thoughts quick enough to keep his new plan from Yellow Eyes. God, he hoped he remembered how to do this right. He silently cursed himself for not paying more attention to Bobby's lessons like Sam always did. Dean knew he had no time to waste, so he worked quickly taking in a deep breath of air.

Seconds later, Dean began to chant strong and confident, hoping that his Latin was good enough to do this. Now was when he really needed to make this count. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, Omnis-"

It was going pretty great at first. Dean actually thought that he had finally gotten the upper hand in this situation. Dean watched in triumph as the demon's eyes widened in a genuine look of shock. Unfortunately, he was quicker than Dean had guessed. Before Dean had even gotten close to finishing up his exorcism, Yellow Eyes had already found a way to stop him.

Dean's words were suddenly cut off and it felt as if his voice had been stolen from him. At first, he thought that maybe his voice had finally given out on him, but the smirk on Yellow Eye's face said everything Dean needed to know.

"Now Dean, I can't have you exorcising me now can I?" the demon hissed darkly.

In defeat, Dean gave up on trying to finish chanting the exorcism, it was clear that his voice wasn't coming back right now. The ritual would be completely useless to him if he couldn't speak. However, that didn't stop Dean from trying to break through the silence. He felt his throat strain and from the effort trying to scream or yell. He hoped that he could get his voice to slip past this invisible gag. However, Dean's efforts were in vain. He could feel the strain of screaming taking a toll on his throat, but still, no sound was coming out. It was like Yellow Eyes was using a mute button on him.

Suddenly, Dean's silent screams were broken off as he felt in an invisible force shove him crashing back against the cave wall. Dean groaned in pain, but still mustered up the strength to glare at Yellow Eyes when he approached and towered over him. "Now Dean, you are going to listen to what I have to say. I wasn't quite done rooting around inside of your head. You've got a lot going on in there, and it's a pretty big mess, so you are going to sit here quietly and not interrupt me again."

Dean strained against the force of Yellow Eyes invisible bonds. He could feel his muscles quivering and shaking, begging him to give up, but Dean wasn't the one to give up. Dean willed his thoughts to shut down in the hope of keeping the demon out of his head. In his heart, he knew that there was no way in hell he was going to free from this. Dean didn't care; his brain was sending him a different message that told him to keep fighting. John's voice echoed in Dean's head, telling him that he was a soldier and soldiers never gave up.

Dean had no way of knowing just how long Yellow Eyes held him there. He tried his best to stay strong and keep fighting against him, but eventually, his mind and his mind and his body gave up on him.  His arms and legs felt numb and useless, pinned against the cold cave wall. When he felt the last strand of resistance leave his body, the demon dropped his invisible hold and let Dean's broken, bruised body to the floor.

"There we go," Yellow Eyes cooed, "Are you done now Champ?" There was a sinister, toothy grin spreading across the demon's face. Dean wished that he could slap that merciless smile right off the demon's ugly mug. "I thought that maybe you'd last longer than that. I know your father would have. He wouldn't have given up that easily."

With the last of his strength, Dean lifted his hands and flipped off monster standing above him, which only elicited a throaty demonic laugh.

"Alright then, where were we?" Yellow Eyes started. "Oh right, we were talking about John. You and I both know that he cares so much more about Sam. He can sense that there is something different, something special, about your brother. I know you can feel it too Dean. I can hear that sliver of doubt in your head. Well, you and your father aren't wrong. There is something different about dear little Sammy something… special, but I can't tell you what it is. It's far too soon for that Dean-o." The demon was just rambling now.

Dean did his best not to listen, but it was hard not to hear the gravelly, scratchy sound of Yellow Eye's seemingly omnipresent voice. It was like his words were actually inside of his head, even as he heard them ricocheting off the walls around him.

"How could someone like you stay standing on two feet when inside that noggin you're literally drowning yourself in anger and self-hatred?" Yellow Eyes mused. "I'm surprised you even have the motivation and self-worth to get up in the mornings. Your dedication to Sam must really be strong. Your brother must be pretty damn lucky to have you in his life…" The Demon paused, before adding, "Or maybe it's just the opposite. Maybe Sam knows how worthless you are Dean; maybe he can see what a worthless unlovable big brother he has. Hey but don't feel bad about it. Maybe you just weren't fit to be a big brother.' There was a pause, and Dean hoped that Yellow Eyes was done. Dean silently groaned when the demon opened his mouth again to spew more vulgar words. "You know what… since you feel like there is nothing you are useful for Dean, I'll tell you this. You are important to me."

Dean gave Yellow Eyes a look of suspicion and confusion. He didn't understand what the demon meant, but it sure as hell couldn't be anything good.

"You will be very important to me one day Dean. You will help me one day."

Bile swirled in Dean's stomach at the thought of helping this bastard. Fire flared behind Dean's eyes and anger boiled in his chest. "I will never help you," Dean managed to hiss through his invisible gag.

"Oh but you will," Yellow Eyes purred back, his eyes glinting maliciously. "Just you wait and see. Maybe not now, but one day you will help me."

"I won't! I won't, I won't I won't! I will never help you, you sick, slimy bastard," Dean shouted. His throat burned in pain as he screamed and squeezed his eyes shut tightly. Dean wanted to drown out the sound of the demon that held him captive. He was willing to anything to keep this monster out. Dean knew what was in his head and the last thing he needed was someone sifting everything that and telling him about the mess up there. He kept that darkness locked away for a reason.

Dean kept his eyes screwed shut hoping that something would change. He was so determined to be defiant that at first, he didn't notice that the cave had gone silent. When the realization struck him, Dean cautiously opened his eyes and found that he was alone. Yellow Eyes had simply vanished.

The only remnant of Yellow Eyes that still lingered was the faint putrid odor of burnt sulfur.


	5. Alone

Dean wasn't sure how long he stayed slumped against the cave wall. After Yellow Eye's left, he hadn't been able to muster up the strength to move.

Offhandedly, Dean realized that he was probably going into shock, but willed himself to snap out of it. Dean didn't have the energy to do much of anything at the moment. He sat there staring at nothing for so long that soon he wasn't sure if he was awake or asleep anymore. Nothing felt real anymore. It was strange, almost surreal situation. He had never experienced anything quite this before.

The pain he had felt earlier seemed to fade as his senses dulled. Before Dean knew it, night had passed and sunlight was creeping inside the cave.

He barely registered the rays of light slowly inching closer to his legs. Dean felt like giving up right here and now. He honestly didn't see the point in fighting. He couldn't hunt, he couldn't track, hell, he couldn't even shift his body without pain flaring up inside of him. His body was broken and mangled, leaving him weak and defenseless. He had become utterly worthless.

It was like he was four years old again. Just like the night his mother died, Dean felt completely useless and powerless. Sitting here was about the only Dean thing that had the strength to do.

The growling of his stomach was the only thing that broke Dean from his trance.  He tried to ignore it at first, but the longer Dean sat there, the more intense and unpleasant the feeling became.

He thought of his father and his blind devotion to the life of hunting. Dean saw the toll that it left on him. Whenever John returned from a hunt, battered and tired, he would drown himself in alcohol. Some night he only came home long enough to take a shower before heading out to a bar where he tried to make himself forget. He tried not to hold it that against his father.

He knew how hard this life was. Dean figured that it was the worst on his father.  John was walking along a broken path just to find his wife's killer. The man had been through so much in his life and the death of Mary had finally been the straw that broke the camel's back.

He thought about how their father's despair made life harder for him and Sam. Since a large portion of John's cash went towards fueling his alcohol addiction, Dean was left scrounge up money when they fell short. Because of this, Dean had become a skilled at hustling pool and mastered the divine art of poker. He would even pickpocket passersby on the streets if he was in a hurry. Sometimes Sam would pitch in too. His brother provided a great diversion for Dean. He would distract people with his cute boyish face and his clever stories while Dean's nimble fingers made off with their cash.

Unfortunately, even after all that, Dean still sometimes came up short. This meant that sometimes Dean would go days without eating a proper portion of food. He made sure that Sam always had enough, but Dean's stomach constantly reminded him of what he gave up for his family. He was far too proud and stubborn to flee to the streets and beg for money so he improvised like he always did. There had even been times where Dean went out and stole food from the local grocery stores. He knew it was risky, but Dean didn't care.

Just a few months ago he had gotten himself caught stealing food for Sam. Instead of being sent to juvenile hall Dean had been taken to a farm for delinquent boys. When John found out, he had been furious and chose to leave him there. Dean knew he deserved it. He had screwed up big time and being stuck there was his punishment.

Much to Dean's surprise, the farm turned out to be better than he had expected. He even met a pretty girl while he was there. She was his first kiss and his first real girlfriend (and damn she knew how to kiss). The two of them had planned on going to a school dance together, but the night of the dance John had come back and reminded Dean of where he truly belonged. Dean needed to be there for Sam no matter what. In order to make sure Sammy was safe, Dean needed to become stronger, smarter and faster than ever before. It was the need to watch after Sam that prompted Dean to leave. He felt bad for leaving his girlfriend without saying goodbye, but his brother was more important. Sam always came first in Dean's mind.

Sam deserved to have a life outside of hunting. He deserved a normal life. His brother wasn't a natural born hunter like Dean was. Sam wasn't meant to be a killer. Dean wanted to preserve his brother's sweet, innocents for as long as he could. He knew that his own innocence had died long ago, but Sam's could still be saved. Dean was sure that Sam would never get out of the life if he abandoned his brother. He had to be his little brother's night and shining armor.

 Dean knew he was broken. He used sarcasm and anger to cover up how scared he really was and how scarred his soul was becoming. Hunting monsters the way that his family did was enough to make any man lose themselves to the real monsters hiding inside of them. That's what was happening to his father.

Dean was ready to give up anything to be back on the road with his brother right about now. Living on the road was no easy task, but that was where he belonged. That was his real home.

Maybe, if he had been able to kill Yellow Eyes in this forest, he could convince his father to leave the life. Dean wanted that son of a bitch more than anything in the world. The demon had robbed him and Sam of their family and their childhood. That fucker needed to pay for what he had done. If he had more than a fucking rock for protection, maybe he could have killed that monster.  Sam could have gotten the normal life he always wanted.

It was the thought of protecting Sam that finally gave Dean the strength to move again. Pain shot through his limbs as he stood, but his responsibility for Sam drove him forward. Dean had to be strong for Sam even if his brother wasn't here. He had to fight to survive so he could see Sammy again. Dean would always keep fighting. He had too; Sam needed him to fight. If wanted to see Sam again, he needed to get the led out of his pants and actually fight for his survival.

In this sudden state of mental clarity, Dean realized that his family probably needed him just as much as he needed them.

He willed himself to get off the chilly cave floor. His joints whined in anguish as he stretched the stiffened muscles. He clenched his jaw and balled his fist wobbling a little as he fought breathlessly to stay upright. He should be resting right now, but then again, Dean had never been very patience when it came to injury recovery. Dean had a mission to complete and he wasn't about to let some soreness and a few cracked ribs stop him.

As he stood there in the cold morning air, Dean rubbed his numb hands together. Dean put his years of training to the test, hearing his father in his head, telling him that pain was something that could be ignored. This pain was temporary so he had to fight through this.

When he tried to walk towards his duffle bag, Dean's legs nearly gave out. He heard the sound of blood rushing in his ears as he tried to keep his balance steady. It was like he was trying to walk for the first time. He forced himself to ignore everything around him, focusing only on the bag of food and medicine he so desperately needed.

 _'When did all of this get so far away,'_ Dean asked himself. He hadn't even realized just how far he had been tossed until he started walking towards it.

Warm morning light illuminated his skin as he got closer to the cave's entrance. When the sun beams washed over him, he felt its warms heating up his chilled body. When he made it to his supplies, the first thing he reached for was the pain meds. His brow shot up in surprise when he caught a glimpse of his arm. There was nasty bruise littering practically every inch of his skin.

 _'Holy shit,'_ he thought to himself as his eyes raked across his purple and blue skin. It looked like he had lost a fight with a baseball bat.

With an unsteady grip, Dean managed to open the medicine bottle one handed. He was desperate for some kind of relief and quickly tossed back two pills. Dean sighed tiredly and squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe when he opened them again he would just wake up from a bad dream _. 'A very real feeling dream,'_ he reminded himself. When he reopened his eyes, unfortunately, he was in the same place... go figure. The pain was too real to be part of a dream anyways.

With a heavy sigh, Dean glanced down at the bottle in his hands once again. His heart sunk when he noticed that there was only one pill left in the bottle. He really should have checked to see how much there was before he had so many pills at once. _'I'm a fucking idiot...'_ Dean groaned inwardly. This day was already going starting off on a bad foot.

"God, I could use a beer right now," Dean croaked, talking to no one but himself. His voice was scratchy and broken, even trying to talk caused him pain. It was probably due to the amount of smoke he had inhaled on the plane and all the screaming he had done. His throat was not happy with him.

Dean chewed on his lip and wobbled on his feet as a wave of fatigue washed over him. Slowly, he turned and reached for his bag of food and water. He felt a pang of guilt as he gave into the hunger he was feeling. Dean knew he needed to save the food for as long as he could, but if he didn't eat now, he wouldn't have the strength to do much else.

His mouth watered as he hurriedly ate his way through a small portion of his scarce supply of food. He was so hungry that he really didn't even taste the food that he was putting into his mouth. All he wanted was to end this horrible empty feeling in his stomach. Dean was sure to leave himself enough to at least make it through one more day. Maybe he'd be able to set up a few traps or something to catch some animals. Dean remembered reading something about humans being able to survive for at least three weeks without food. Water was a different story. Without water, he would only make it a week, if that. Neither of those thoughts really helped Dean feel any better. He couldn't really remember the last time he had a nice meal that left him feeling full and content. How much had he even eaten before the crash? He couldn't remember, but Dean was sure that it was far less than he should have had.

He quickly brushed that thought away and tried to focus on what was really important. Hopefully, he wasn't going to be out here for long, but if he was, he'd needed to come up with a backup plan.

Dean tossed the food wrappers to the side as he grabbed a water bottle. He quickly drained the entire thing, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the cool liquid. Sadly, the water did little to soothe Dean's sore throat, but it was still better than nothing.

He knew he was wasting his resources, but at the moment he didn't really give a shit.

After packing everything back up as best he could, Dean limped to the mouth of the cave. Outside, the airplane was still smoking. The jet fuel was keeping the fire alive. Dean was still worried about it potentially exploding, but as of now, things seemed to be fine.

Though his body was aching, Dean decided that it would be a good idea to familiarize himself with his surroundings. If he was going to stay in that cave another night, Dean wanted to be sure that he wasn't going to get mauled by a bear or some shit while he slept.

The ground beneath him was damp and squishy as he left the cave. He couldn't help squinting at the intensity of the sunlight beating down on his face. Around him, the world seemed to be spinning but Dean just kept trekking on. He was on a mission, and nothing was going to stop him.

As he walked (more like limped), Dean's thoughts were a swirling mess, replaying everything from last night with painful intensity. Part of him wanted to believe that what he had seen was simply an illusion, a side effect a mild concussion combined with the pain meds and the shock from the plane crash. The other part of him was convinced that the experience had been real. There was no way that he could have conjured something like that up, at least not in the state that he was currently in. Had his mind just been playing tricks on him or had Yellow Eyes really been there taunting him?

"Have you descended into madness yet," a voice beside Dean asked.

Dean whirled around his eyes wide and bewildered. He furrowed his brows in confusion when he found nothing behind him but trees. He was about to shrug it off when he caught a flash of color at the corner of his eye. His heart was thrumming rapidly in his chest. He swore he had just seen a pair of yellow eyes disappearing into thin air. His senses were on high alert as Dean tried to find the owner of the voice. There was no way he could have imagined that not along with the voice had heard.

"Where the hell are you hiding," Dean screamed, his hoarse voice cracking slightly on the last word.  He bent down and snatched up a stick to defend himself with. _'Like this will do me any_ _good,'_ Dean thought to himself sourly.

Dean stood there, stick held firmly in his hands as he waited for something, for something, anything to happen. When his surroundings remained quiet and still, Dean began to wonder if he really had just imaged hearing a voice.

 _'Maybe I really am going insane,'_ he thought with a bitter snort.

Dean sighed and forced himself to ignore his darks thoughts as he lowered his stick and continued his journey. As he continued, Dean couldn't help the feeling of unease churning in his stomach. The further away from the cave that Dean got, the larger the forest seemed to grow. He began to worry if was going would be able to find his way back later on.

After hobbling along for close to twenty minutes finally had to take a break. He hunched over, fighting to catch his breath as his broken ribs throbbed in pain. Dean had made it through worse pain, this should be nothing compared to the things he's experienced in the past. He couldn't remember the last time he had been winded this easily. Dean leaned his weight against a sturdy oak tree while he tried to slow his breathing. When his heart finally stopped pounding against his rib cage, Dean began noticing a promising sound. Over the chirping of the birds and the eerie humming of the cicadas, Dean could hear a slight trickling sound.  Dean pushed away from the oak and eagerly clambered through the brush and closer to the sound. With each step he took, the trickling sound got louder and louder. Dean had a hunch and he hoped to God that it was right.

Before he knew it, Dean came across a small clearing. At the edge of the clearing was a small bed of running water. It was nothing more than a shallow creek, but still, the sight brought tears of relief to Dean's eyes. This meant that if he ran out of bottled water, he would still be able to get something to drink. Of course, he'd still have to boil the water to make it safe to drink, but at least he had a plentiful supply now.  It wasn't the ideal option, but it was his only one now.  Hell, who was he to complain, he'd take any stroke of good luck that was sent his way.

There was a shallow bank beside the creek and Dean carefully approached it, testing the group to make sure I would stay firm underneath his feet. When he decided that it was safe, Dean slowly made his way down the slope and onto the riverbed, his chest aching with each movement he made. When he had almost reached the bottom, his feet almost slipped from underneath him. The next thing that Dean knew, he was trying to over compensate and overbalanced which sent a jolt of pain throughout his injured body.

When he made it to the bottom, Dean was muddy and aching, but he felt a surge of pride at his determination. When he dipped his dirty hand into the water, he sighed in relief. The clear water was cool to the touch, a bit colder that Dean wanted it to be, but it felt soothing on his skin.

He cupped his hand and splashed some of the water over his face, scrubbing at the dirt and grime that clung to his skin. Water ran down his skin in rivulets, goosebumps rising along his arms and legs as he tried to adjust to the temperature. Compared to the heat of the plane fire, this water kinda felt like heaven.

Dean shut his eyes, inhaling deeply as he allowed himself to enjoy the simple pleasure of the water. Then he stood slowly and slipped his arm out of his makeshift sling. Next, he lifted his shirt over his head, gritting his teeth as he pulled his injured arm out of the sleeve. Once the shirt was off, Dean tossed it to the side to be dealt with later. His pants and boxers soon joined the discarded shirt.

Dean couldn't help feeling vulnerable as he stood by the creek side, completely naked. He had never been in this situation before and it seemed almost taboo to be standing out here like this. Dean also felt a little bit rebellious too. He usually found great enjoyment and pleasure in doing things that others thought were wrong. Dean had always wanted to go skinny dipping and here was his chance to try, although this wasn't exactly how he had imagined it.

Dean braced himself for the cold that he knew was coming, then stepped into the water. He shivered involuntarily as goosebumps appeared all along his skin. The water was a lot colder when it was covering more of his skin. "Fuck," Dean swore as the frigid water swirled and rippled around his ankles.

Dean let his body adjust to the water before moving in further.  It took him a while to make it into the middle of the river, but at least this way the cold shock wasn't as sharp and unpleasant. When he did reach the deepest part, Dean was surprised to find that the creek was deeper than he had suspected. At the deepest spot, the water was just past Dean's knees. Although Dean was still a little cold, he knew that eventually he'd become completely immune to the temperature, and maybe it would even make his injuries feel numb for a little while.

A little further down the creek, Dean spotted a sunny patch of water.  He glanced back to where he had left his clothes and wondered if he should leave them there or take them with him. It wasn't like anyone was going to come along and take them, but Dean really didn't want anything to happen to them either. In the end, Dean ended up leaving them where they were and treading slowly towards the sun. If he was going to freeze in this water, he might as well have the sun at least attempting to defrost him. He moved slowly, keeping his eyes open for snakes or sharp rocks hiding beneath the clear surface. The last thing he needed was more injuries. He had enough to last a lifetime. 

When he reached the light, Dean let out a sigh of content. The bright rays colored his bruised skin, made them feel warm despite the cold.

With popping knees, Dean finally crouched down and allowed more of his body to be submerged.  He shivered even harder now, biting hard at the inside of his cheek as more of the cool water enveloped his body.

 _'This is just like when Sam and I go into one of those motel swimming pools...'_ Dean tried to tell himself. Sometimes, when he and Sam had some free time they go swimming at in the pools at whatever motel they were staying in that week. Most of the time, motel pools resembled a toxic biohazard. They were abandoned, uncared for and a strange greenish color, but there were the rare occasions when the water was actually safe looking.

They would stand at the edge of the pool, daring the other to jump in first, but both refusing.  Eventually, one of them (usually Dean) would push the other into the water. That was often followed by vigorous swearing and complaints about how cold the water was. Then Sam would send great waves of water at him just so he would get wet too.

When the water came over Dean's hips and his bare groin he gasped. He never realized just how much swim trunks kept you warm underwater. Skinny dipping in cold water would not be one of those things that he'd ever want to repeat.

"This fucking sucks," Dean rasped just to break the silence around him. It seemed like even the birds were holding their breath as he sunk deeper and deeper into the water.

When managed to get into a sitting position, Dean felt rocks digging into his skin.

 _'I just need to hurry up and get this over with...'_ Dean thought to himself as he began to scrub his dirt cover arms.

Dean watched as the water around him became clouded and murky as the blood and dirt came free from his skin. He did the best he could to remove the grime from his skin, but he was lacking a lot of the proper tools. Next time he'd have to bring the bar of soap and the towel with him.

The cleaner that his body seemed to get, the more prominent his bruises and open wounds became. He really was worse for the wear. By the time he had finished, Dean could tell that the pain medication was starting to kick in. His body soon felt a strange relief as the worst of the pain ebbed a little. He was still hurting pretty bad, but any decline of the pain was a good sign for him. 

He took advantage of this dip in pain and managed to dunk his head under the water to wash away the ash and dirt caked into his hair.

Once he felt clean again (or as clean as you could get while bathing in a creek) Dean made his way back to his clothes.

When he made it onto the bank he carefully gathered up his clothes and moved to find a patch of sun to dry off in. Right here, the trees made a thick canopy over his head, but it didn't take long for him to find a suitable spot.

He checked the ground around him before lying down and letting the sun do its job. The heat felt incredible against his skin and soon the beads of water soon evaporated off his tanned, bruised skin.

He wanted to stay here in this warmth forever, but he couldn't risk getting sunburn. Plus, it would probably be better if he stayed near the airplane for the time being. If anyone came to the rescue, they’d be looking for the plane, not a random survivor wandering through the woods.

So, as soon as he felt dry enough, Dean redressed and made the trek back to his cave hideaway.

Finding his way back proved to be much easier than Dean had initially thought it would be. Once he was heading in the general direction from which he had come, Dean simply followed the smell of smoke from the burning plane. Initially, Dean hadn't noticed the foul odor, but that was probably because he had become used to it the longer he stayed near it.

 _'Maybe I do need to find somewhere else to stay at night,'_ Dean thought to himself. He wasn't sure how easy it would be to get used to that burning smell every time he left his little 'camp'. It would make rescue a little less likely, but that smell was just sickening and Dean knew it was only going to get worse.

After walking for what felt like ages, Dean finally made it back to the site of the plane crash. When he emerged into the burnt clearing he nearly gagged. Thick smoke was filling the air around him and was thick enough to burn his eyes. His throat ached as he inhaled the toxic fumes. On top of that, Dean could smell something nauseating and vaguely familiar.

When Dean realized why he recognized the odor, his eyes widened in horror and disgust. Masked underneath the smell of jet fuel, Dean was able to pinpoint the scent of flesh burning. The air around him was filled with the smell of the dead plane passengers being burnt to a crisp.

Tears pricked his eyes as that smell took him back to a night he wanted to forget.

Dean remembered standing in Sam's room, looking up at the ceiling, his mother pinned to the roof. She was burning, flames licking around her body and eating away her flesh away. The smell was painfully similar to what he smelled now. It was an awful coppery metallic, stomach-churning odor that tainted everything it touched. Dean felt dirty again just by being in this air.

That settled it; Dean needed to find a new place to sleep tonight. There was no way that he'd be able to sleep with this awful stench plaguing his nose all night.

Hurriedly, Dean limped back to his cave and retrieved the small stash of supplies that he had. As he was leaving, Dean looked up at the sky, trying to guess how much sunlight he had left. Judging by the position of the sun, Dean guessed that it was only about noon. He had at least four hours to find a good place to rest his head tonight. That should be enough time.

As Dean headed away from the plane wreck, he had to stop once to throw up the contents of his stomach. He had tossed his gear onto the ground, as he doubled over. The world seemed to be spinning again as what little food he had eaten now decorated the forest floor.

Dean spent the next few minutes dry heaving. The smell was making him feel absolutely horrible, but there was nothing left in his stomach to throw up.

"This must bring back old memories Champ," someone above Dean cackled evilly.

Dean's nostrils flared in anger. He already hated that cocky, snarling voice. Dean didn't even have to look up to know who was standing there waiting for him.

Yellow-eyes had returned.


	6. Shelter

"How's it going champ?" Yellow eyes taunted. "Are you finding your way around here alright? It kinda looks like you're already making a mess of yourself."

Dean bit the inside of his cheek while the taste of vomit tainted his mouth. He wanted to gag again but there was nothing left for him to throw up. Dean forced himself to straighten up. He did his best to fight through the ache in his chest and the nausea swirling around in his stomach. He did his best to look past yellow eyes, but no matter how hard he tried, the demon was still visible from the corner of his eye. Dean wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand as he realized just how drained he felt. He had no energy left to fight. Puking up what little food he had consumed was making the matter worse. Being sick and hurt combined with a lack of food and sleep was a recipe for disaster. Dean honestly wasn't sure how he was still standing after all this.

"Awe, come on, are you just gonna ignore me now?" the demon teased, trying to move closer so Dean could see him better. "What happened to all that rage and anger from last night?"

"Go away," Dean growled, turning away angrily and picking up his dropped supplies. He tried his best to retain what little dignity he had left.

"Now that wouldn't be any fun, would it?" Yellow Eyes sneered. "Who would keep you company then?"

Dean ignored him and turned to walk in the opposite direction. He would make his way back to the river. Maybe there would be somewhere he could sleep around there. Mentally, Dean wished that telling a spirit or a demon to fuck off would actually work like it did in the movies. Unfortunately, the tragedy that Dean called life was anything but a movie. This hell was all too real.

"Oh, so we're playing the silent game?" a dark chuckle came from somewhere behind Dean. "I was never very good at that game. Apparently, neither was your mother."

Dean balled his fists in fury; his adrenaline began pumping through his body. Any talk of his mother made Dean beyond furious. He didn't like to think about what he lost, especially when it was coming from the very monster that had killed her. Dean even got snippy when Sam started asking questions about mom.

"Oh, come on Dean, if you would have heard her you would have known it was her time to go anyways."

"I did hear her," Dean hissed through clenched teeth. He could no longer stay silent as rage bubbled inside of his chest.

"Oh hang on, so you're telling me that talking about how I killed dear old mummy is what will get you to talk to me? I like it." There was venom in Yellow Eyes words as he spoke. "It's so deliciously cruel and evil."

"Leave me the hell alone!" Dean roared whipping around and facing the demon as his eyes glinted evilly.

"Well if you insist..." He hummed, a smirk crossing his face. The demon shrugged and added, "I guess I can give Sammy and dear daddy a visit instead."

With the blink of an eye, Yellow Eyes was gone.

Dean's eyes widened with horror and fear as he thought of his family. _'Oh no, what did I just do? He gonna kill them!'_ Dean thought to himself.

In a panic, Dean began screaming for the demon to return. He ignored the rawness of his throat as his distraught voice rang through the empty forest air. Dean screamed until he was blue in the face as fear pressed him forward. He had to keep the rest of his family safe. Dean would lose Yellow Eyes a hundred times over if it meant keeping Sam and dad out of harm's way.

"Well, that got a wonderful response!" Yellow Eyes said, appearing behind Dean and scaring the shit out of him. "You're reaction time was a little bit slow, though. I could have killed the both of them already and you couldn't have done a thing about it."

Dean let out an animalistic growling sound and lunged at the demon. He was mad; fire coursed through his veins now and gave him a false sense of power and strength as he attacked.

Dean lifted his good arm and clocked Yellow Eyes in the face. The demon seemed stunned which gave Dean enough time to twist his hand into the demons shirt and shove him back against a large, thick tree.

Dean knocked the breath out of the demon upon impact and got right into the monsters face. Unfortunately for Dean, Yellow Eyes was in a much better condition than himself so he recovered almost instantly.

"Nice move," Yellow Eyes jeered as he waggled his eyebrows. The next instant, Dean found himself clutching nothing but thin air. The demon had vanished causing Dean to lose balance and fall face first into the tree.

Dean felt tree bark bite into his face. He winced in pain as he felt skin tear and blood start to ooze from the wounds. He could feel the warm blood trickling his cheek and drip off his chin onto the ground below.

"You know, I wasn't sure if you had it in you kid. Clearly, I was wrong," Yellow Eyes snickered, once again standing behind Dean. "You're a little slow, but you've got balls."

With the back of his hand, Dean furiously wiped the blood from his face. Even as he cleared away the blood, Dean could feel more beading up on his skin and run down his face in slow, sticky rivulets. Dean clenched his teeth and wiped his hand off onto his jeans.

Dean stood and looked around for his bag of food again. He was done playing this game of cat and mouse. _'I need to get my anger under control,'_ Dean scolded himself. His father had always told both of them that anger was the greatest weapon if used properly. However, if he let his anger get away from him, it could earn him a one-way ticket to his own hunter's funeral.

Dean had been the best at managing his anger. Sam would explode at the slightest disagreement with dad, especially these days. Those two would go at it for hours and Dean always had to be the one to step in and stop them before things could get violent. Sam and his father we so alike which made their personalities clash horribly. The older Sam got the more angsty and rebellious he seemed to get.

Luckily, John never hit either of them when he got angry. Their father had more restraint than that, but sometimes it sure as hell looked like he wanted to smack the shit out of them. When John was really angry with them, he wouldn't even yell. Sometimes that was worse than the anger. Instead of anger, John would just look at them with silent disappointment, quietly shaming them for their various fuck ups.

Dean saw how much the anger tore at his family so he tried to let all his anger out on the hunts. He was normally able to control himself until he was on a hunt before letting out everything he had bottled away. In recent years, this pattern had begun to attract the attention of other hunters. They didn't go on group hunts very often, but when they did team up with others, Dean heard hunters about him. They would tell his father that he was a natural born hunter and many of them would be scared to cross Dean. One person had even said that Dean seemed to become a whole different person during a hunt. It was kind of true, though. When he was hunting, Dean pretty much forgot about everything else. It was easier to stay focused that way. In the hunter lifestyle, you couldn't afford to have distractions.

Right now, though, Dean was struggling to keep a lid on his anger. _'Keep it cool. Stay in the game, Winchester,'_ Dean thought to himself. Somehow he had to find that well-versed self-control and hold onto it with everything he had. It was probably one of the only things that would keep him alive if he ever made it out of these damn woods.

"Who needs self-control anyways?" Yellow Eyes cackled wickedly. "Isn't it just better to release all your anger now? It will make you feel better, I promise."

Dean ignored the demon. He couldn't let him continue to get to him. If he did, he would waste more energy fighting than actually trying to save himself.

In an effort to drown out Yellow Eyes harsh demanding voice, Dean began to hum to himself. The tune to _'Some Kind of Monster'_ soon began to drift into the air. Metallica was always a good way to calm himself down.

"Is that the best you got?" Dean heard Yellow Eyes tease over the sound of his own voice.

Instead of answering, Dean just hummed louder. His voice cracked every now as he struggled against his wrecked throat. Dean silently wondered if he would ever be able to talk again after this painful excursion into the forest.

Dean tried to retrace his steps; he needed to find that river again. If he could find shelter close by then maybe things would get easier. He would have access to water, he could hunt for food easier, and maybe he'd even get a fire started to cook food and boil the water.

Dean had all but drowned out Yellow Eyes, annoying insistent comments until he heard, "You know, you're gonna die out here, don't you?"

Dean glanced at the demon from the corner of his eye. Yellow Eyes seemed to be floating lazily alongside him. He was doing this simply to taunt Dean further as he himself barely found the strength to walk. Dean rolled his eyes; he could care less about what the demon had to say.

"You know I'm right," Yellow Eyes sneered as he realized that he had gotten Dean's attention again. "Deep down, you know it. This is your new home. Say hello to your final resting place and say goodbye to your little brother."

"Nobody kills Dean Winchester without a fight," Dean hissed stubbornly.

"I never said you wouldn't go down fighting. I just said that you're gonna die here." Yellow Eyes hummed with an evil twinkling in his golden eyes. "Besides, how much fight do you really have left in you?"

"I ain't gonna die here," Dean growled. He wasn't sure who he was talking to anymore, himself or the demon. Maybe it was both.

"We'll see," Yellow Eye cackled. "Sammy will be forever wondering what happened to his big brother. I bet your daddy is gonna get a father of the year award when he lies about your death and tells dear Sammy that you ran away from your responsibilities."

"Well, I ain't dead yet," Dean spit ferociously.

"Yes, but when you are that will be just one more Winchester out of my way," Yellow Eyes sighed in content as he added, "I really thought you would be stronger than this Dean-o. I figured you'd have more fight in you. After all, I am the one who made a campfire out of your mommy." He paused then said, "I should have brought some marshmallows with me that night. We could have told campfire stories around the burning Winchester."

Dean bit down hard on his lip. Instantly he could taste blood filling his mouth. Yellow Eyes was really testing his self-control. Dean was about ready to snap. This was infuriating. He couldn't fight and he couldn't get rid of the demon either.

"Good. I want to alright that self-control limit. I wanna see you snap and lose your shit," the demon smirked. "In fact, that's my favorite part about being out here with you. Your anger is going to kill you one day."

"Why won't you just go the hell away?" Dean complained.

"Because I like I said; I like it here with you. Hasn't anyone told you how deliciously dark your thoughts are?"

"Get out of my head!" Dean snapped.

"No thanks, I like it inside there. Who would have known how much a fifteen-year-old boy could hate himself? You call me the evil one, but then I see what malevolent things are held in that warped little brain of yours. Do you ever wonder which one of us is really the monster here?"

"You're the monster you asshole. You killed my mom! I kill the evil bastards that destroy families," Dean retorted.

"But think about everyone who had to die because of you. All those people you couldn't save? Think of all the poor possessed bastards you've tortured and interrogated just because daddy said so. Weren't they all human too? They just had an extra guest hiding inside of them," Yellow Eyes hissed, his evil smile returning easily.

 

Dean wished he had never re-engaged himself into this conversation. Things were already starting to turn bad. Dean could feel his blood start to boil again. This hatred held inside of him was getting worse and worse with each word that spilled from the demon's mouth.

"Yes, good Dean. Let it build inside of you. Feel the anger building like fire in your veins," Yellow eyes hissed with a wicked smile curving across his face.

"Why are you really here?" Dean finally snapped, turning furiously to glare at the monster standing beside him.

"Do you really wanna know?" The demon cackled.

"Obviously," Dean spat in irritation.

"Really now?” Yellow eyes taunted. "Are you sure?"

"I'm gonna fucking throttle you," Dean snapped through gritted teeth.

"If you can catch me," the demon teased, arching his eyebrows wickedly.

"You know what, never fucking mind you asswipe." Dean could feel the flames licking up the inside of his chest. He needed to calm down, but at this rate, he was going to explode.

"Okay fine..." Yellow Eyes hissed. "It's no fun when you give up, so I'll just tell you."

"I don't really care anymore," Dean lied. He starting to get the feeling that he didn't want to know the answer. Dean should have just kept his trap shut.

"Listen Dean-o, I am inside that fucked up noggin of yours. I know as well as you do, that this is killing you," Yellow Eyes hissed, getting right beside Dean's ear.

Dean wanted to swing at the bastard, but he knew his reaction time would be too slow. Plus the demon would know what he was going to do before it even happened. 

"Smart move boy," Yellow Eyes taunted. "I could take you out before you even knew what hit you."

Dean rolled his eyes. He hated having someone inside his mind. That was the last thing re-engaged needed. _'Maybe I'm possessed...'_ He thought to himself _. 'Is this what it feels like to be possessed?'_

"Not even close," the demon mocked him. "You would know if I possessed you. I can take your meat suit for a little spin if you're that curious. I'll cause you so much pain that you'll wish I had just dragged your pretty little ass to hell instead. "

"Pass..." Dean snarled. "Are you gonna tell me why you're here or not you fucking dick monkey?"

"I knew you were still interested!" Yellow Eyes said eagerly. "And since you asked so nicely... The real reason I'm here is to drive you insane. I want you so off your rocker when you get back to your family that you'll never be able to hunt again. I'm here to destroy your mind, Dean. I'm bringing down all the walls!" He screamed the last sentence loud enough to echo around him for miles. Dean winced as the sound assaulted his ears.

Dean just stared at Yellow Eyes in a stunned silence. He hadn't been expecting that. Dean was sure that the demon was here to toy with him for a little whole before killing him. Instead, Yellow Eyes was trying to destroy him from the inside out. He was only here to fuck with him. Dean wanted to scream.

"Scream Dean. Scream as loud as you can. No one is going to hear you. We're all alone out here. Me and you are going to have so much fun together."

Dean chewed the inside of his cheek. He had to hold onto his sanity. He felt like he was going to break down, but he couldn't let that happen. Dean had a little brother to get back too. Someone needed to watch after Sammy while their dad was on a hunt. If Dean died, their father was only going to hunt more. Dean knew that dad would leave Sam alone for weeks. There would barely be enough money for him to survive. Someone needed to protect Sam. Dean had to make it out of this hell while he still could.

'That river has to be close,' Dean thought to himself. He was trying hard to distract himself from the firestorm of thoughts crashing around in his overloaded mind. So far, things weren't going all that well for him.

Dean could see the twisted smile growing on Yellow Eyes face as he fought with himself. This was all part of the demon's plan. Dean knew it now, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. How could you run from your own mind? The demon had found somewhere that Dean couldn't escape from and something that he couldn't fight against. Dean was in a bind with no way out. It was impossible to escape from his own mind and the horrid thoughts that were hidden within.

Dean ground his teeth together and tried to pick up the pace. The sooner he found a shelter, the happier he'd be. Maybe he'd be able to sleep better tonight, or at least get some shut eye for a few hours. Maybe he'd even find a way to silence his own thoughts.

"You really think you'll be able to sleep with me here?" Yellow Eyes smirked as Dean finally spotted the river again.

"Well, anything is possible I suppose," Dean grumbled.

"I hope you're a heavy sleeper because I can get really loud when I want to be," the demon warned with a malevolent laugh.

Dean was too tired to care anymore. He needed some shelter and a place to sit down. Arguing with Yellow eyes took a lot more out of him than Dean had realized. Not only was that, arguing with himself even worse. It was like he was trying to play tug of war with a boulder. There was no way to win. His only hope of escape from himself was to give into the madness, but he wasn't ready to let go just yet. Dean still had just a little fight still left inside of him.

Now more than ever, Dean began to feel the heaviness of his legs and the way his arms seemed to drag him down. It was like there were bags of rocks strapped to his feet making walking that much harder. The pack of food seemed to weight a thousand pounds. The trees around him blurred as his eyes crossed and his lids drooped sleepily. He just wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Dean paused to lean momentarily against a tree, his eyes dipping closed as he panted hard.

He had actually been on the edge of falling asleep when he heard a blood-curdling scream pull through the trees. Dean's was instantly on alert; tired, bloodshot eyes darted from tree to tree as his heart pounded. In an instant, his eyes landed on Yellow Eyes, his discolored teeth glinting darkly while his eyes twinkled with mischief.

"How was that for a wake-up call?" The demon asked. "Better than any type of coffee known to man."

Dean groaned in agony and pushed himself away from the tree. As he continued forward, his eyes continued to droop. Every time his eyes closed for more than a second Yellow Eyes would do something to wake him up. He even resorted to singing for a little while. His voice sounded worse than nails on a chalkboard and caused Dean to wince in pain. He covered his ears but it didn’t really do much to drown out the sound.

Soon, however, Dean began to hear a trickling sound over the horrible sound of Yellow Eyes voice. When he moved closer to the sound, Dean was relieved to find the river from earlier was now running beside him. The rippled, glassy surface made Dean beam in delight. He was finally getting somewhere. Now he just needed to find somewhere to rest and hopefully catch a few hours of sleep.

He yawned loudly, swaying tiredly on his feet at the shore of the river.  Dean just wanted to lay down right here and fall asleep, but he knew that was a pretty shitty plan.

So eventually, Dean turned away, leaving the rider behind him and resuming his hunt for a place to rest. The further away he got from the river, the quieter the roaring sound got. Through the trees, the light around him was growing dim. The sun was already beginning to set, creating an even more solemn atmosphere in the air around him. Dean tried to keep himself from panicking as night fell. He didn't want to know what creatures lurked here during the darkest hours of the night.

He wished he could just collapse and stop fighting against his body. Dean missed his dad and all the drills made them repeat over and over. He missed spending hours poring over his dad's journal or reading on up their next hunt. He missed Sam asking him five hundred stupid ass questions a day. He missed hearing Sam laugh at the dumb cartoons playing on the TV. He missed his family and the purring sound of the car he called home. Dean missed his dad taking him out shooting and showing him how to fix up the Impala every time she needed some work done. Hell, Dean even missed arguing with his family because at least they were all together.

"Oh boo hoo. Cry me a river," Yellow Eyes scoffed in disgust. "You're stuck out here with me so get over it already."

Dean scowled but stayed silent. He had nothing more to say to the Demon. He was far too tired to deal with his shit anymore.

The sun continued to sink lower in the sky as Dean walked. He was sure how long he kept moving for but it felt like years. Deep down he knew that moving far away from the crash site was a bad idea, but all he really cared about right now was a safe place to sleep. By moving, so far away, Dean knew he was risking his chance at rescue, but there was nothing he could do about it today. He couldn't stand the smell of human flesh burning off of brittle bones. Dean knew that the smell was only bound to get worse as the heat of say made the flesh start to rot.

Finally, after what felt like years, Dean was able to find small cave carved into the side of a cliff. Hesitantly, he ventured into the opening and prayed that it was empty. The cave itself was partially hidden behind some thick shrubbery so he had no idea what to expect when he entered.  He was brandishing a thick stick, but he doubted that it would do much good if something inside the cave wanted to eat him. Dean hadn't seen any animal prints around the cave entrance, but that didn't mean that there was nothing living inside.

As he peered into the cave entrance, his stomach rumbled angrily, ruining any element of surprise that he might have had. This also reminded him once again of his limited supply of food. He would need to set up some animal traps fast or he was going to find himself running out of food far sooner than he anticipated.

Much to Dean's relief, the cave was empty. It was a little smaller than he hoped, but it would still provide him with adequate protection. Gingerly, he set down his bag of remaining food after checking to make sure that nothing in the cave was going to kill him.

He crouched down, ignoring the way his hair started to stand up on the back of his neck. Dean knew that Yellow Eyes was standing right behind him less than a foot away. He had become so used to the feeling today that Dean instinctively knew that he wasn't alone. Dean tried his best to ignore the demon as he quickly scooped up some dirt off the cave floor and rubbed it onto his skin. If he was going to live out here, he was going to need to mask his human scent. Other animals could probably smell him a mile away especially after he had cleaned himself in the river. If he smelled more like the earth, he would be able to blend in a lot better.

While he worked, Yellow Eyes began singing, butchering every note that fell from his lips. Eventually, Dean was able to drown out the noise and lose himself in his own mind. He credited most of that to how tired he felt. He was so drained that his body was running mostly on autopilot. Anything that wasn't immediately necessary became a background element.

When he stood back up, Dean’s feet ached in protest. He glanced towards the cave entrance and saw that the light was fading fast. The sky had taken on a deep fiery red that reflected the burning feeling in Dean's veins. In a different circumstance, Dean would say that the color was pretty, but right now it only reminded him where he was.

Dean shook away his darkened thoughts and limped unsteadily outside of the cave and back into the unnerving greenery surrounding him. Everything looked darker and meaner now that night was coming. Things that he had been sure were bushes earlier soon began to resemble animalistic monsters. There wasn't much time until twilight gave way to the darkness of the night but if he was fast, Dean could set up at least one or two animal traps. Maybe, in the morning he would have some fresh meat to cook up.

Even as broken and battered as he was Dean's agile fingers weaved complex knots into flexible sticks as he built animal traps around the premises of his cave. Every time he turned, Dean jumped, seeing a new shape that he could have sworn wasn't there before. Dean knew he was just being paranoid, but he couldn't help feeling like something was watching him. When he turned to go back in his cave Dean jumped and nearly dropped a small bundle of sticks as a pair of glowing yellow eyes appeared in front of him. Dean could see glowing teeth curve into a smile as Yellow Eyes taunted him further.

He wished he had some salt or iron to sprinkle around his cave entrance. It would give him some added protection that night as he tried to sleep. Maybe salt would have helped keep the demon away for at least a little while.

Just as night truly fell, Dean pushed past Yellow Eyes and scuttled back into his newfound home for the night.

He shivered silently against the cave walls, wishing that he had some way of creating heat in here. He had brought his sticks and dry leaves with him, hoping that he would be able to use them for some kind of kindling. His only problem was that he had no idea how he was going to get a fire to light.

Suddenly, he remembered the silver lighter that his father had given him for his tenth birthday. Somehow over the years, Dean had never lost it. He lost hundreds of other lighters, but the one his father had given him was always there when he needed it. Dean kept it stashed away in his pockets in case of emergencies. He wasn't sure why he hadn't remembered it sooner. The stress of his current predicament was clearly clouding his judgment _. 'I to get a fucking grip if I'm going to survive out here,'_ Dean thought to himself.

With trembling fingers, Dean reached into to his duffle to find his discarded jeans. When he found them, he reached hopefully into his pocket to find that trusty silver lighter. He let out a relieved sigh when his fingers brushed against the soft cool metal. Once again, his lighter was there for him when he needed it the most.

"Thank God," Dean breathed as he flopped carefully onto the ground. Sleeping on the ground sucked ass, but things could be worse he supposed. At least he would be able to have a fire now. That would help keep animals out too.

No sooner than he spoke the words, Yellow Eyes chose to throw in his own opinion.

"Oh, I wouldn't thank God Dean-o. God has been gone for a very long time," he taunted.

"Yeah whatever," Dean scoffed. He was too tired to argue. The last thing he needed was this douche bag fucking with him again. He had already made Dean paranoid enough for one night. "Why would a demon know anything about God? Besides, I never said I believed in him."

The demon chuckled darkly and said, "Of course, what's the point of believing in something you've never seen."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Listen; if you're not going to kill me, then just leave me the fuck alone. I don't want to deal with this shit."

"Hm... Nah... I think I'll stay thanks," Yellow Eyes jeered. "Like I said, I have a job here."

"Oh for the love of-" Dean cut his sentence short. He didn't feel like listening to a rant on how God had abandoned the earth. All he wanted to do was sleep. He had finally set up some animal traps, he was about to get a fire going and then he was going to sleep.

Dean remained silent as he organized his sticks and leaves into a small fire pit. After, he took a quick journey outside into the pitch black wilderness so he could find some rocks to serve as a fire pit. He tried his hardest to ignore the sounds of animals moving in the night. Each time he heard the sound of a twig snap, he thought it would be the end.

Finally, he had enough rocks and managed to not get eaten in the process. As soon as the fire pit was finished, Dean quickly used his trusty lighter to get a small flame going. Dean smiled in relief when the leaves ignited easily. This was one of the first good things to happen to him since landing here. The fire was even better than when he found the creek. The light effectively got rid of the dark that surrounded him even though he knew better than to feel safe in the dark. His father always warned him about what lurked out in the dark, but at least the fire helped to ease his mind a little bit.

Warmth washed over his chilled skin and gave him some hope that maybe things would turn out alright in the end.

He shut his eyes lightly and just basked in the light of the slowly growing flame. Hopefully, he'd be able to get a decent night's sleep now while keeping away bugs and larger beasts that wanted to investigate inside his cave.

Dean knew not all monsters were afraid of monsters fire, but he had hope that no fire loving creatures found him. The flames might keep away wendigo, but apart from that, he would be pretty fucked. For once in his life, Dean tried to forget the monsters he fought and only think of the ones that normal people worried about. Dean just needed one where he could forget the life and actually worry about what his body needed instead of what might be after him. He had no fight left in him, so if something did attack him he'd be a goner anyways. All his strength had dissipated and left him feeling weaker than he had in his entire life.

Suddenly, a chilly breeze blew into the cave. Through his closed eye lids, he could see the light of the fire die out. That hadn't been a normal breeze of air. Deep in his bones, he knew that something darker than nature had caused the gust that had put out his fire. Dean's heartrate spiked and he forced his eyes open. He was horrified of what he might see, but Dean wanted to know what beast lurking in the night was going to be was going to become his killer.

When he opened his eyes Dean was shocked to find the cave completely empty. Even Yellow Eyes was gone. _'Maybe when Yellow Eyes left, he created a breeze that put out the fire...'_ Dean thought, trying to rationalize the situation. _'Or worse, maybe I can't see whatever put out the fire.'_ It wouldn't be the first invisible monster he had had ever fought, but it very well may be his last.

Dean shivered in the cold air. Every tendon and nerve ending was alight with the last of his energy. Fear somehow made even the weakest person stronger than they seemed. Sometimes fear was the only thing that kept him alive on hunts. Fear was a necessary evil in the hunting business. Much like anger, fear was needed to keep a person agile and quick-witted; you just couldn't let it keep you frozen to the ground.

Slowly, Dean sat up and relit the fire. Maybe this time it wouldn't go out on him.

Once the fire was crackling again, he tucked away his lighter and tried to stay on the alert. Soon, however, his heavy eyes drooped and everything around him blurred. His body was aching for sleep and was making it hard for him to watch the fire.

Soon, he scooted back, moving away from the fire so he could prop himself up against the cave wall. He didn't want to wake up learning that he had fallen forward into the fire. That would be a nasty wake-up call.

When he settled himself on the ground, the fire crackled warmly while his body embraced the strong pulls of sleep. Finally, Dean felt some of the tension in his body melting away. After a full day of running, he was finally letting himself be dragged into unconsciousness. His body was finally going to get its chance to rest and regain the strength to keep on fighting.


End file.
